The Scarlett Letter
by Islander2
Summary: COMPLETE! Scarlett's provocative newsletter has found its way into Hogwarts, leaving the boys spellbound and the girls furious. And she's fallen in love with Goyle! Can things get any thicker? They sure can! Based on true events. Over 3000 reads!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is not my first novel length fic. However, it is my first novel-length fanfic. I have had a great deal of fun writing this, and I am overjoyed that I'm finally posting it. It is a comedy with romance in between. Probably the saddest thing about this fic is that it's based, in essentials, off a true story that I had the great privilege to watch unfold before my eyes. However, I have changed all the names to Hogwarts names and embellished a great, great deal. In the process, it has become my own fic and much less of a true story (it's the sort of thing that would happen if I tried writing my autobiography). 

This story disregards Book 6 canon. It isn't because I disliked HBP—I loved it very much (though OOTP is still my favorite). It's just that the 6th book didn't allow for this story to be possible. So Dumbledore is still alive, Ron is paired with Hermione, and Harry and Ginny aren't yet a couple. Oh, and I don't really focus on Voldemort at all during this story. It's humor, so it won't be exactly like the books. I try to keep the characters canon, but you'll have to forgive me if they deviate.

Warning: This story is rated R (or any other equivalent rating) for pervasive sexuality and dialogue, and for strong language. It is meant for mature audiences, so if you're immature, don't read it. I'm not discouraging any age group from reading my story (I myself am only 16), but if you aren't able to find any morals at the end of the last chapter, you're probably too immature to read this. By then it'll be too late to do anything about it, however, so just use caution and don't flame me. . .

Disclaimer:

We bow as one before the holy shrine

Where J. K. sits exalted 'bove us all.

She owns this fic; alas, it is not mine,

So to my knees to her I humbly fall.

In writing this, my Inspirer me hath blessed.

She writes the books, and lets us write the rest.

**Chapter One**

**Adding Scarlett**

_Attention all males at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry:_

_I, Scarlett, invite you cordially to subscribe to _The Scarlett Letter_, my new newsletter. In it I detail my daily life and relate the stories of my titillating career. I also add extra bonuses of great interest, including my own special poems and photos._

_Please note, however, that this newsletter is intended for mature audiences only. If you are sixteen years of age, you may fill out the enclosed form for a six-month subscription at the bargain price of 29 galleons and 16 sickles._

_Moreover, I have also enclosed a preview of this newsletter. Subscribe today to take advantage of this great deal! Enjoy!_

_With all my love,_

_Scarlett_

_----------_

On a splotchy piece of scrap paper in NEWT Potions, first block:

_Oh God, Dean, did you see it?_

_See what?_

_Scarlett's new newsletter! Actually, she hasn't released it yet, but the preview photos. . . wow! She has one gorgeous body! I about fainted!_

_Did you really, Seamus? I have the letter in my pack here—I was going to read it during History of Magic so that I wouldn't fall asleep. I can read it now, though, if it's such hot stuff._

_No, don't—Snape's coming. Wait until History. . . Oh God, it was gorgeous!_

_Stop it! I can't concentrate on the notes!_

_Yeah, Dean. If you're so bent on taking notes, we wouldn't be passing this bit of parchment back and forth in the first place. But enough about that—let's talk some more about Scarlett. She's amazing! Perfect frame, perfect body. And that red bikini really becomes her. You should see it!_

_ARRGH! STOP!_

* * *

On a piece of paper in NEWT Transfiguration, first block. The top half of the paper had grown feathers:So, Justin. . . did you see the advert for The Scarlett Letter? 

_Hot, wasn't it? You buying it, Terry?_

Hell, yeah! I'm all over it like a rash! I could use a body like that to warm me up during these cold winter months—especially now that Christmas is just past. A girl like Scarlett could pull us all out of our post-holiday blues.

_You speak the truth, mate. I sent off my 29 galleons and 16 sickles over my bowl of cornflakes._

_I'm telling every boy in Ravenclaw the first chance I get. This Scarlett Letter thing looks really promising. Uh oh, McG's coming our way. Better hide the note._

And, with a tap of Terry Boot's wand, the paper became a large toucan, which flew up and landed in Professor McGonagall's hair.

* * *

A long, low drone filtered through the second block History of Magic, as if someone was running a washing machine and forgot to turn it off. It was, of course, the notorious Professor Binns, sending the poor fifth-year Gryffindors to sleep with his never-ending lectures. However, two students had resisted his soporific rhythms enough to carry on a whispered conversation in the back row of desks.

"You buying the newsletter?" Colin Creevey asked his best friend Andrew Kirke.

"Hell, yes!" Andrew replied. "Aren't you?"

Colin sighed. "I wish. But I'm too young—I'm one year away from Scarlett's cutoff age. D'you think an aging potion might help?"

Andrew laughed, if a little too loudly. He glanced quickly up to the front to make sure Professor Binns hadn't heard him before he replied in a whisper, "Aging potion? Why would you need that? Just _say_ you're sixteen. That's what I'm doing."

Colin grinned sheepishly. "Good point," he said. "I should have remembered that I don't need magic and potions to fix all my problems. Sometimes good old-fashioned lying works the best."

"Sssshhh!" Andrew hissed. "I think Ginny's trying to listen in on our conversation."

And indeed he was right; Ginny Weasley had woken up sufficiently to lean her red-haired head across the aisle next to them in hopes of eavesdropping. When she realized they had stopped talking, she let her head sink back down to her desk, though with an indulgent smile playing across her lips as she fell back asleep.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the second block Charms class, Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini hid themselves in the back of the class. Flitwick had assigned the Sixth Year Slytherins the _Aguamenti_ Charm. The ensuing ruckus of shouts and splashing fountains rattled off the walls and ceiling, and allowed for the two boys to have one of their many private talks.

"Please tell me you're not subscribing to _The Scarlett Letter_," Blaise pleaded of his friend.

"But I am," Theodore replied, casually flicking his wand. A glob of mud flung itself out the tip and hit Pansy in the back of the head. "Scarlett's steaming hot."

"You can't be serious," Blaise said, rolling his eyes. He, too, flicked his wand, if a bit more purposefully, and a bludgeoning hex shot out and clanged Theodore across the shoulder.

"OW! What was that for?"

"She looks like a tramp!" Blaise complained, ignoring Theodore's complaint. "She's a whore—she's showcasing her body for a sackful of galleons. Doesn't that bother you?"

"No," Theodore replied. "_Aguamenti!_" A fountain of urine sprayed from his wand—he managed to direct it away from himself just in time, and it splattered itself across the front of Goyle's robes. "Does it bother _you_?"

Blaise opened his mouth to reply, then, after some quick but significant consideration, closed it again. "_Aguamenti!_" A clear stream of water fountained from the tip of his slim wand, sprinkling Theodore's straw-blond hair. "Er. . ." he said in answer to Theodore's question. "Um. . . but still, what are you going to do with the newsletter once you get it? Wank off in the Prefects' Bathroom? You don't want a magazine written by a. . . a slattern!"

Theodore looked at Blaise with wide eyes. "Yes, I do," he said simply. "And I couldn't use the Prefects' Bathroom, because I'm not a prefect. I'll just have to look on in jealousy as Malfoy and _his_ copy of the newsletter claim that territory."

Blaise scoffed at Theodore. "Come on, you've lost your mind! You don't honestly think Malfoy would buy into that crap? He wouldn't subscribe even if it was free!"

----------

Letters scattered amidst the photos and crumpled paper that flooded Scarlett's desk:

_Dear Scarlett,_

_My name is Draco Malfoy, but you can call me Draco. You are drop-dead sexy! I was looking at your pictures all through Charms. And it was the images of your amazing body that gave me the will to perform my _Aguamenti _charm to absolute perfection. I have enclosed some personal photos, as well as 30 galleons for a six month subscription to your highly-anticipated newsletter. Keep the extra sickle—you deserve it for being so irresistible!_

_Love,_

_Draco_

_

* * *

Dear Scarlett,_

_I am Seamus Finnegan, and I am a sixteen-year-old young man who is anxious to subscribe to your newsletter. I've sent along the proper amount of money, and expect some hot photos in return. If they're any bit as good as the ad, I'll be, erm, doing stuff "in the shower" all day long, if you catch my flow!_

_Hugs and kisses,_

_Seamus_

_P.S. Do you ever visit Hogsmeade?_

_

* * *

Most lovely Scarlett,_

_I am a boy called Gregory. My last name is Goyle, but you won't need to use it—just call me by my first name, because I want to be friends with you. You are the most pretty girl I have ever seen. Your ads are so steaming hot that I got burned when I picked them up! I am a Slytherin, and I had two girlfriends as of yesterday, but dumped them both when I saw your newsletter. I won't be playing any games with you, because you are too priceless. I have put 50 galleons in this note, because you are way too special for only 29 galleons and 16 sickles. My friend Malfoy is only giving you one sickle extra, so that means he doesn't like you as much as I do. And I am giving you 10 photos of me—TWICE as many as Malfoy. Please write back—I'd love to hear from you._

_Love,_

_Gregory_

_

* * *

What's up, Scarlett?_

_So, uh, I saw your pictures, and you're way hot. I'll slap 29 galleons and 16 sickles on you, and you can slap that Scarlett Letter thing on me._

_Most thoroughly engrossed,_

_Terry Boot_

_

* * *

Dearest Scarlett,_

_My name is Euan Abercrombie, and I'm a 17-year-old Gryffindor at Hogwarts. I'm in second block Potions right now, writing this letter. I wish you were here instead of Snape—he's a bore. I can't wait to drop him after doing my OWLs. His teaching isn't worth a knut—I've hardly learned one speck of information since I started Hogwarts last year. But you are worth so much more, from the look of your ad, which is why I'm giving you a full 29 galleons and 16 sickles. That's mean you're worth. . . um. . . I don't quite know, but it's a lot more than Snape. Hope you're having fun, wherever you are, and don't forget to write me back!_

_Euan_

_

* * *

Scarlett,_

_I'm Zacharias Smith. I couldn't help noticing your curves. So I decided my pocketbook was too curvy, and emptied it of 29 galleons and 16 sickles. Maybe you could put one of the coins in your bra, and think of me every time it rubs against your skin. That would make me feel special._

_Love,_

_Zach_

_

* * *

Scarlett,_

_29 galleons, 16 sickles. Lay it on!_

_Blaise_

----------

Lunch was a noisy affair that day. Every boy in Hogwarts had crowded together at their tables and were now clamoring excitedly about the hottest new rumor—_The Scarlett Letter_. The Gryffindors eagerly compared and critiqued Scarlett's photo advertisements. The Hufflepuffs earnestly discussed the new relationships they would start with Scarlett. The Ravenclaws argued over the effect this new newsletter would have on the school. And the Slytherins breathlessly reviewed all the plans they had for snagging Scarlett for themselves.

The girls, meanwhile, had retreated to the opposite ends of their tables and looked on at their male counterparts warily.

"A fad, do you think?" Susan Bones said worriedly. She had left the Hufflepuff table to join the Gryffindor girls. "The boys will get over her."

"Maybe," Katie Bell replied pensively. "It depends on how hot this Scarlett is. She may have all the boys on their hands and knees, but she can only put out so many newsletters before everyone gets tired of her. I don't expect her to last long."

"She'd better not," Romilda Vane said crossly. "I've been baiting Harry Potter for the past four months, and if she distracts him, I am going to send her a bound volume of nasty hate mail."

"I'm assuming Harry's too noble for that," Katie assumed. "He's not some loose gigolo."

"How do you know?" Romilda said in a somewhat injured tone, as if all her plans hinged on Harry being exactly the opposite of what Katie thought him to be. "A whole new side of him could manifest itself with the appearance of Scarlett. I'm not taking any chances."

"Ignoring how Harry treats this whole affair, I know the other boys will limpet themselves to Scarlett," Daphne Greengrass said. She had lowered herself enough to leave the Slytherin table so as to partake in the steamy gossip. "From the sound of it, Scarlett will be rolling in floods of mail by now."

"Seamus and Dean sent money for the newsletter," Lavender informed them.

"As did Justin Finch-Fletchley," Susan put in. "At least Ernie had the sense to refuse." She said this last bit with pride—she and Ernie had been dating for three months come next Saturday.

"Terry subscribed, too," Luna put in mildly, having wandered over from the Ravenclaw table. "I warned him against it (you know that young veilabats often disguise themselves as women in red bikinis), but he wouldn't listen to me. I wonder why?"

Daphne rolled her eyes at Luna's comment. "If all. . . er, _veilabats_ look that great, the men wouldn't care if they were human or not. Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, and Blaise all subscribed to Scarlett's newsletter. That's all the Slytherin boys in my year—absolutely pathetic!" She paused a moment to give Lavender a strange look. "Did you say that _Dean_ bought a copy? Won't Ginny be furious?"

Lavender waved the question away with her hand. "They broke up yesterday, everybody knows that," she informed Daphne in a bored tone. "Where've _you _been?"

----------

And so, in consequence, Scarlett spent a _very_ busy afternoon dashing off letters, when she should have perhaps been attending to other matters:

_Hey Vincent,_

_Your photos look hot. No chance of hooking up sometime, is there? I especially like the picture of you in your green sheer boxers—mmm, sexy. Make sure to keep in touch—I'd like to lay you sometime. And enjoy my newsletter—I have indeed enclosed a copy just for you. Enjoy!_

_Hugs and French kisses,_

_Scarlett_

_

* * *

Hi, Terry,_

_This slapping stuff sounds like a good idea! I lift my slappable rear to the sky. You might see a pose like that in my newsletter, and many more like it!_

_Scarlett_

_

* * *

So, Blaise,_

_Where exactly should I "lay it on"? How about your bum, or is that not intimate enough?_

_Kisses, and please enjoy my newsletter!_

_Scarlett_

_

* * *

Dearest Draco,_

_Glad to help you out in your studies! I would love more photos—do you have a hand of glory? You could make some really great poses with that!_

_Can't wait,_

_Scarlett_

_

* * *

Dear Seamus,_

_I've enclosed my newsletter. I expect you to soak it by the time the day is out! Do you have any photos, by the way? I always love looking at hot Irishmen—I'd be in my own shower "doing stuff" right along with you!_

_Scarlett_

_P.S. Yes, I do visit Hogsmeade_

_

* * *

Most lovely Dennis,_

_I'm sorry to hear that you're four galleons short. Tell you what: since you're a strapping sixteen-year-old that just happens to be pressed for money, I'll give you two weeks' grace. Enjoy _The Scarlett Letter

_Scarlett_

_

* * *

My dear Zacharias,_

_You sound like an absolutely fascinating person! A Hufflepuff and a Quidditch player—my, you are a busy young man. Maybe we can get "busy" sometime—if you're willing! And do you know what else? I'll put _two_ galleons in my bra, one for each cup, and I'll think of you all the time._

_Deepest love,_

_Scarlett_

* * *

And so it went.

----------

"Gosh, I'm exhausted!" Hermione said as she sank down at the Gryffindor table at dinner, her bushy brown hair bouncing out of its loose bun.

"Busy day?" Parvati said. She often made small talk with Hermione, though they never went any further. Hermione was often uninterested in Parvati's gossip, and Parvati couldn't stand talking about school, as Hermione was often wont to do.

"Very," Hermione replied, out of breath. "I still haven't done Professor Sprout's essay, and it's due tomorrow!"

Ron, who was loading his plate with roast chicken and potatoes, raised his eyebrows. "That's very unlike you, Hermione, to leave off your homework until now," he said wickedly. "I finished that essay during History of Magic."

"Only because I fell asleep and we couldn't play hangman," Harry explained, rolling his eyes. "I'm surprised you didn't conk out yourself.

"I did the essay because I decided to keep ahead of things," Ron said loftily as he took a drumstick in each hand and began eating. "And also because Hermione's had a good influence on me."

"Thank you, dear," Hermione said, "but you shouldn't be talking with food in your mouth." She gently ran her hands through her boyfriend's flaming red hair, smiling softly.

"You think you've been busy," Ginny said crossly. "I have to write three feet on the Polyjuice potion, two feet on the correct use of the Teacup Charm, _and_ I have to read about Muggle entertainment for Muggle Studies!"

"Muggle entertainment?" Hermione said with interest. "There wouldn't happen to be anything on _porn stars_ in there by any chance?" And the two girls burst into giggles. Ron and Harry shot each other nonplussed looks, then returned to eating.

"Are we talking about Scarlett?" Lavender said, her full attention suddenly devoted to the inevitable conversation.

"Yes," Ginny said, still holding back a laugh.

"That newsletter has so much potential, doesn't it?" Parvati put in eagerly. "It'll be a wonderful study on what the Hogwarts boys do and don't want! Lavender and I have already bought a copy to share."

Ron dropped his drumstick on the floor, and it rolled off in a trail of grease. "You _what_?" he said, stunned. "You two aren't. . . aren't, er. . ."

"Lesbians?" Parvati supplied merrily. Ron nodded and blushed. But she laughed and said, "Of course not! But do you think that we'd ignore that newsletter? If we did, we wouldn't understand what the guys have to say about it, and that would be tragedy indeed!"

"We, at least, won't be behind times," Lavender said empathetically, and began eating her buttered zucchini.

Ginny languidly plucked a green bean from Harry's shepherd's pie and pushed it into delicately into her mouth. Then, in a most casual voice, she said, "Hermione's friends with Scarlett."

Parvati and Lavender both stared from Ginny to Hermione, wide-eyed, their food suddenly forgotten. "You actually know her!" Parvati asked Hermione eagerly. "You know Scarlett?"

Hermione nibbled on a treacle tart while keeping a decidedly straight face. "Sure, I know her," she said. "We went to the same grammar school. She was two grades above me, but we were still best of friends."

"So she's eighteen?" Parvati said incredulously. "A bit precocious, advertising her body as soon as she's legal."

"A bit," Hermione admitted absently as she finished the last bite of her tart. "But she'll go far, I'm sure. She's so determined."

"Has she told you anything about the newsletter?" Lavender asked eagerly, leaning forward from across the table.

"Quite a lot," Hermione said with a sly smile. "Loads of secret stuff. She's given me a couple of previews."

Lavender hung onto Hermione's every word. "And those are—"

"—full of naughty stuff," Hermione finished succinctly and vaguely. "She has some photos, then some biographical information, as well as a few poems and anecdotes."

"Anecdotes?" Ron said. He was clearly engrossed in the conversation, for his chicken lay forgotten on his full plate.

"Stories, Ron," Hermione defined patiently.

"Any way we can find out more?" Lavender pressed earnestly. "Could we write Scarlett and ask her?"

"You could, but she probably wouldn't answer," Hermione says. "She's terribly busy. She's an actress by trade, so that loads her down with enough work in and of itself. But now that she has the newsletter to deal with, she's likely to get a number of new correspondents. She'll have hardly a moment of free time."

"Oh," Lavender said in disappointment. Even her zucchini seemed to wilt before her. "So she won't be taking any more letters. Too bad." She slumped down in her seat and nibbled at her vegetable for a moment, and they fell into a measured silence. Hermione, it seemed, kept deliberately quiet as she started on a parfait.

"Your parents would have a heart attack if they saw you eating so much sugar," Ginny told Hermione with a wry smile, as if she was deliberately turning the conversation away from Scarlett.

"True, they might," Hermione replied, taking another bite of the parfait. "But they're not here, so they'll never know."

"But what about Scarlett?" Parvati suddenly burst out, unable to keep quiet any longer. Hermione turned towards her, clearly amused that Parvati and Lavender were now paying more attention to her than they ever had in the past.

"What about her?" Hermione replied mischievously.

"Did she tell you more?" Parvati pressed. Ron looked up from his last drumstick, trying, and failing, to be inconspicuous as he drank in every word of the conversation. Harry simply shook his head and smiled, then returned to his shepherd's pie.

"Yes, she did," Hermione said as finished her parfait.

"Well, what was it?" Lavender burst out impatiently, clearly finding the deliberate suspense in Hermione's form of gossip quite mystifying. She and Parvati normally burped up their gossip in a large pile and tore it frantically apart in half the time it took Hermione to take another sip of her pumpkin juice.

"She gave Hermione a list of some of the subscribers," Ginny supplied, apparently less patient than her bushy-haired friend. "Cootes and Kirke and Sloper all sent in their money for the newsletter. And so did Colin and Dennis."

Lavender was quite pleased with Ginny's willingness to talk, and found her information quite amusing. "None of them are sixteen yet!" she said, laughing. "Don't tell me Scarlett didn't see this coming!"

"But of course she did," Hermione said reasonably. "She just didn't want to seem too. . . licentious. What kind of proper eighteen-year-old lady chases after boys five years her junior?"

"I guess even looseness has its limits," Harry remarked with a shake of his raven-haired head. "Who would have guessed?" And he continued eating his pie, as if he had never heard a word of the conversation.

"Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle also subscribed," Ginny added. "And that ass Zacharias."

Lavender and Parvati digested this information immediately, then regurgitated it out on the table again. "Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, and Zacharias Smith," Parvati rattled off, clearly in her element.

"They're all cursed with horrible names," Lavender analyzed. "Unless they included some deceptively steamy photos with their submission, she's not going to think twice about them."

"And they treat us girls absolutely _horribly_," Parvati said, picking up where her best friend left off. "Pansy complains constantly about how Draco is always staring us down. I swear, if that boy checks out my boobs one more time, I'm going to hex him to pieces."

"Goyle's our real problem," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "He ogles Hermione and me in the halls _constantly_, then pretends like he wasn't. He's so obvious."

"And so obviously desperate," Hermione finished with relish. "He hasn't had a girlfriend in his life—there's no way he could pull a hottie like Scarlett."

"Draco might have a chance, though," Lavender said pensively, absentmindedly eating another bite of her zucchini. "He may be an arrogant Slytherin, but he isn't that bad-looking, and he could be pretty seductive to someone who didn't know him."

"And he and Zacharias both play Quidditch," Parvati pointed out. "That might give them a glimmer of an opportunity."

"What about Crabbe and Goyle?" Ron put in with a snigger, unable to keep out of the conversation.

Lavender burst out laughing, and accidentally dropped her last piece of zucchini on the floor. Wiping tears out of her eyes, she said, "No, Ron, they don't stand a chance. Crabbe's bad enough—what with him being so dumb he can't add two and two. But Goyle? Goyle with the hideous pudding-bowl haircut and that vacant look that makes him look like he's been freshly Obliviated? Goyle who can't possibly catch a girl, no matter how hard and how long he tries? Goyle who everyone disdains, except for Crabbe and Malfoy, who are about the crappiest friends that anyone could ever find? Scarlett had better not waste her time writing to him when she could be corresponding with me instead. She'd never fall in love with _Gregory Goyle_. . ."

----------

Written on pink stationery with lurid, red heart:

_My most darling Gregory,_

_I must admit, when I first got your letter from a handsome tawny barn owl, I expected it to be like all the others—full of the sweet nothings that spill forth from a boy's head when he's trying to hook up with a girl that he lusts after. Boy, was I wrong._

_Your note was sweet and kind, especially your compliments on my ads. Though many people never guess it, I'm very insecure, and didn't know whether people would like me or not. But you do, and for that I am eternally grateful. And that you would dump both your girlfriends just to be with me—I'm touched! If there's one man in Hogwarts that I'd like to go out with, it'd be you. You pass all the others by a mile._

_I don't know quite what it is about you that makes me find you appealing. Perhaps it's your wonderful, gentlemanly attitude. Maybe it's your hot, hot photos, which were MUCH better than the ones Malfoy and Crabbe sent me. Maybe it's because you seem a little misunderstood, even though you're such a gem. Or perhaps it's a combination of all three. Whatever it is, I would love to become your friend, and maybe even more. . ._

_With all my love,_

_Scarlett_

**A/N:** I have finished this story, or at least the rough draft. It is nine chapters and around 80,000 words. I fit more into this story, however, than some fanfics authors would in twice that length. So stick around, because I'll be updating somewhat regularly.

Be warned, however, that there may be a few things that delay updating. First, I'm in school with 3 AP classes, so I may not get as much time to revise and post as I'd like. Secondly, some of the chapters in this story are very long (16,400 words for the longest), so it'll take a long time to revise. Thirdly, I'm trying to release the chapters at relatively the same time on my three sites, and one of them might give me trouble over the content (I'll try to cut out the borderline stuff before submitting to that site, however, so as not to cause a rejection). The first few chapters, however, are short and should be relatively easy to post up. So stay around and see if you like this story. Until then, well wishes.

Islander


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Just another brief warning of the R-rating. See first chapter for more details on what that includes.

Disclaimer: Yeah, I've had a sex change and have suddenly become J.K. Rowling. Wait, I'm not taking the sex change just to own Harry Potter; I'd rather forgo pregnancy and periods, thank you very much. I'll just stay Islander, and J.K. can have Harry Potter.

**Chapter Two**

**A Major Issue**

Excerpts from the first issue of _The Scarlett Letter_. On the glossy cover Scarlett had splattered a huge picture of her bikini-clad self across the background of a lavish bedroom with a large, flower-bejeweled bed:

_A Quick Biography_

_My name is Scarlett, and I am eighteen years old and currently live in England. I was born in America, but moved to this lovely country when I was five. I attended Lakeland Grammar School up to fifth grade, then received a private magical education from a variety of elite French tutors._

_One of my tutors took me to visit Paris when I was fifteen, and oh what a lovely city it is! The city of love, or of making love (it's all the same to me)! It wasn't long after that that I took a great interest in the intricacies of anatomy and the human body, which has led me where I am today._

_When I turned eighteen in September, I was faced with a myriad of career possibilities. I considered working in a brothel or strip club, but only briefly. The idea struck me as too low in the prestige category. So I decided to become a porn star._

_Imagine my horror when I found that the English wizards have not yet started a porn film industry! I mean, just because films were invented by Muggles doesn't mean that wizards should find them too low to take advantage of. So, for the past few months I've been campaigning to start such an enterprise. I've got quite a bit of approval for the idea, but many of the Purebloods are a bit skeptical that a Muggle technology could garner so many galleons. Those Death Eater types are especially a problem, what with their supremacist attitudes and their scorn of everything that wasn't invented by wizards. So I'd appreciate it if you guys could send some letters to those men in my support—I'd really appreciate it!_

_In the meantime, I have to content myself with the French magical porn industry, which is in its birthing stages. I've just started filming for a minor part in "Grand Bâton" ("Big Stick") and have also attached myself to a major role in "La Baguette Magique Choisit la Sorcière" ("The Wand Chooses the Witch"). I have also applied for a few films in the Muggle business, including "The Back Entrance", "Making and Manufacturing Love", and "The Endless Chasm". The last one includes some truly quirky digital effects that you absolutely cannot miss! Sadly, though, the first of these movies isn't slated to be released until this summer, so you guys will have to wait to see me on the silver screen. . ._

_

* * *

_

_What It Takes—A poem by Scarlett_

_When I was very young_

_Guys loved me very much_

_They longed to use their tongue—_

_It's me they longed to touch._

_When I became a teen,_

_They loved me even more._

_My bod was curved and lean,_

_They fell upon the floor._

_And now I'm all grown up,_

_It's me they long to jump._

_They fill me, up, up, up—_

_I use them as a pump._

_And as I've gone through life,_

_I've changed an awful lot._

_Which shows: to be a wife,_

_You've got to be real hot._

* * *

The newsletter was also filled with a glut of photos. Scarlett, it seemed, was a tanned, sizzling blond with amazing curves and an aversion to clothing. She also wore a variety of outfits, from a gold string bikini to a bright purple one-piece bathing suit with gaping holes strategically included in the design. The most she put on in a single picture was a totally sheer white robe over a halfway-modest two-piece bathing suit.

Scarlett had also found it necessary to contort herself into a variety of positions. Most of them accentuated various parts of her anatomy, allowing for the most detailed viewing possible. Many of these positions also looked painful, but she seemed to bear them with good grace.

Occasionally Scarlett wrapped herself around various studs of men, who never wore more than low-rise jeans, if even that. Her overabundance of male friends seemed to be truly enjoying themselves—their smiles were almost as big as her blinding, ear-to-ear grin that showed off every one of her sparkling white teeth.

Some of the photos moved, allowing for a tad more unpredictable viewing. But other of the pictures were obviously Muggle because, as Scarlett explained, there were only a handful of British Wizarding porn magazines—not nearly enough for her to make a full living.

Like it mattered whether the pictures moved or not. About every single boy in the school from first year on

up had a copy, and was eagerly poring over it at the breakfast table, ignoring the massive cloud of delivery owls that flurried around itself as it left the Great Hall, hooting and flapping.

* * *

At the Slytherin table the sixth year boys were pretty much ignoring their breakfast. Draco dropped his chocolate donut on his plate and was instead fondling his copy of Scarlett's newsletter with a tender gaze, while Vincent and Gregory were literally drooling from the mouth. Theodore took bare moments to glance away from his copy and look at Blaise, who was glued to _The Scarlett Letter_ by the nose.

"I thought you weren't buying the newsletter," Theodore remarked after a moment, staring pointedly at Blaise.

Blaise didn't look up from his copy, but replied vaguely, "Well, I didn't think Malfoy would buy one, either, and look how wrong I turned out to be."

"You said it bothered you," Theodore pressed, his gaze darting back and forth between Blaise and Scarlett.

"Of course it does," Blaise mumbled, barely paying attention to his friend.

"Then why—?"

"God, Theo, don't you ever shut up?" Blaise burst out, still not looking out from behind his newsletter. "I'm trying to read!"

Theodore shrugged his shoulders and returned to his own copy of _The Scarlett Letter_. In the background he could already hear the boys in the other houses jabbering about Scarlett's multitude of photos. The Slytherin boys, however, were still quietly reading, each one determining how exactly they'd hook this scarlet woman. Talking would come later. But for now, a bit of examination was in order.

"Draco, dearest, you aren't reading that awful Scarlett Letter thing, are you?" Pansy crooned in disappointment, thrusting herself up against her unresponsive boyfriend. "Draco?" She gave him a gentle push using her entire body, then threaded her fingers through his pale gold locks.

Malfoy grunted and nudged her back, as if trying to get her out of his hair. She, however, interpreted this gesture in the exact opposite direction and only molded herself even more closely to him. "Please, darling, stop reading that," she whined softly. "Don't you want to look at me instead?"

"Not really. Why?" Draco replied as he ogled an image of Scarlett wrapped inadequately in a thin sheet and around a nearly-naked man. This certain photo was a moving one, which mostly included Scarlett rocking back and forth against her stud, smiling demurely at the camera. Her fifteen-minute-mate simply looked dazed by the good fortune of his position.

"What if I was dressed like _that_?" Pansy continued, pointing at the aforementioned picture.

"Hm?" Draco grunted.

"And what if you were dressed like _that_?" she pointed at the man clad in bikini briefs. "And what if we were moving like _that_?" she continued desperately, indicating Scarlett's rhythms. "Would you pay attention to me then?" If anything, Pansy seemed close to tears.

Draco snapped his newsletter shut (though he made sure to mark his place with his thumb) and turned an annoyed face towards his girlfriend. "Look, I'm trying to read! Can't you leave me alone?"

"But—but don't you want to talk—"

"No idea why I'd particularly want to," Draco snapped, shooting to his feet. "See you in Transfiguration." And he marched away, glancing inexplicably over at the Gryffindor table before turning back to his newsletter and marching out of the Great Hall.

Pansy watched him go, rubbing furiously at her eyes. "What a horrible—I don't see why—how—?"

Gregory looked up from his newsletter. "Why don't you just break up with him?" he suggested mildly. "He treats you like shit."

"He's a GREAT boyfriend!" Pansy lashed out at him. "I wouldn't want any other!"

Gregory shook his head and muttered, "I certainly would, if I was you."

"Well, you're _not_ me, thank goodness!" Pansy snapped back, whipping out a lacy handkerchief and dabbing furiously at her tearing eyes. "Draco's the perfect boy for me!"

Knowing that she was trying to convince herself more than anyone else, Gregory let the matter drop and instead turned his mind towards more important things. Like his new newsletter and correspondent.

_With what I gathered from the letter she sent, Scarlett must really love me!_ Gregory thought, his stomach lurching at the thought. _How exciting! I've never had a girlfriend before—and there's no time to start like the present. Gosh, she looks so amazing that it makes me wonder how I came to deserve a chance like this! No use asking questions—I'd better take advantage of that chance and write her back immediately!_

And so he drafted the letter on a piece of new parchment, right there in the Great Hall.

_Dearest Scarlett,_

_I do believe I have seen true perfection for the first time in my life. This landmark event happened as I viewed _The Scarlett Letter_. In it, I saw perfection—and that perfection was you. You have given my day the ideal start. And I'll consider this ideal start a positive omen. Seeing a woman in a red bikini can't be anything but good, after all!_

_Love,_

_Your Devoted Gregory._

* * *

Ginny, Hermione, and Luna were all leaning over Parvati and Lavender's shoulders. They critiqued _The Scarlett Letter_ in lofty voices and paid hardly any attention to the yammering boys around them.

"Provocative, this girl is," Parvati said dryly, eyeing a picture of Scarlett sharing a large Jacuzzi with three young men. Bubbles obscured all inappropriate body parts, but goofy smiles plastered themselves across the faces of the three men, leaving no one in doubt that they had just had a _very_ good time with their scarlet nymphomaniac.

"She's been provocative ever since she was in fifth grade," Hermione supplied brightly. "I can't say this is the career path I would have chosen for her, but she does seem to be enjoying herself."

Parvati flipped to the next photo to reveal a two-page spread of Scarlett in a red string bikini. Luna gasped and thrust her finger into the picture. "See? She's a veilabat, I told you! They're really bad omens, you know. If you see one, it means that someone you love is going to betray you in eleven days. . . or was it sixteen? I can hardly remember."

"Sounds a bit too much like Divination," Ginny said absently. "Oh, well. Eleven or sixteen, it hardly matters. I don't think we need to worry about veilabats just now."

Ron sidled around to his sister's shoulder and peered down through the small thicket of girls and at the magazine. "What are you guys looking at?" he asked.

"Nothing, Ron," Ginny said firmly. "You shouldn't be seeing this, you're not mature enough."

"It's that Scarlett Letter thing, isn't it?" Ron said accusingly. "You're one to talk Ginny—you're even younger than I am! So that means you're not allowed to look at it."

"Oh, yeah?" Ginny snarled, whirling away from the magazine and extending her body to its full five feet. "I'd like to see you stop me!"

Ron shrugged. "I wouldn't dream of doing it," he replied. "I'd just write to Mum and tell her that you're looking at inappropriate magazines. She'd stop you for me. So unless you're going to let me look over your shoulder, I suggest you keep away from such trash."

"What about Hermione?" Ginny shot back.

"She's not my sister," Ron replied, attempting to keep his voice even, "so I can't force her to do anything she doesn't want to do. Of course," he added to Hermione, his voice suddenly stern, "I don't want my girlfriend looking at _The Scarlett Letter_, either."

"So you think you can boss me around just because I'm your little sister!" Ginny retorted angrily. Her voice was loud enough to mask the commotion that Pansy was making over at the Slytherin table. "Well, my _dear_ brother, you must have run across a particularly vicious Brain-Removal Hex when you were younger, because—"

"Look!" Lavender cried suddenly, pointing over towards the Slytherin table. The five girls and Ron (and Harry, who happened to be nearby) all stared at Draco Malfoy as he shot up from the Slytherin table, clearly annoyed, and marched towards the door to the Entrance Hall.

"He's looking at us!" Lavender whispered suddenly. "See—? Wait, he's turned away now. He's reading his magazine again."

"Thank goodness," Parvati said, shuddering. "It creeps me out, how he keeps staring over here. Maybe Scarlett will be a blessing; maybe Malfoy will start paying attention to her and stop ogling us."

Luna gazed over at the Slytherin table with her wide blue eyes. "Oh look, Parkinson seems to be crying. Draco must have hurt her feelings."

Parvati and Lavender dropped their newsletter and stood up quickly, their gazes homing in on Draco's girlfriend. They were obviously dying to know more about this turn of circumstance.

"I'd better go comfort her," Luna volunteered compassionately. "Draco can be meaner than the Squizzle-gnat at times." She made to leave, but Lavender held her back.

"No, Luna," she said quickly. "Wait a while. Then we'll talk to Daphne."

"Daphne Greengrass?" Hermione asked from her seat at the table, shooting Lavender a strange look. "What for?"

"She's Parkinson's best friend," Lavender explained. "Parkinson will tell her all about it, and Daphne can pass it on to us. Honestly, Hermione—you're book-smart, but you have no idea how the gossip chain operates."

----------

First block Transfigurations for the sixth years happened to be a pretty boring lesson. Professor McGonagall was starting her second day of rote lecturing on human Transfiguration; most of the class seemed to think one period of note-taking was enough on that subject. Some of the more earnest students, including Hermione, Ernie, and Terry Boot, were busy taking thorough notes. The rest jotted down a line or two on their parchment, bemoaned the lack of practical magic, and fell into a gentle slumber.

Draco had set aside his notes and pulled out a clean sheet of parchment. Thinking for a moment, he set the nib of his quill at the top of the sheet and began writing.

"Who are you sending that letter to?" Pansy hissed in his ear. She sat on his right, while Gregory and Vincent took his left.

"None of your business," Draco hissed back in perfect rhythm to McGonagall's lecture.

"You're writing to Scarlett, aren't you?" Pansy accused, pouting.

"Actually, I'm not," Draco replied pointedly. "And, though I don't see how it's any of your business, I'm writing to my _dear_ father." He spat out the last adjective as if it tasted bitter on his tongue. "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't read over my shoulder."

Pansy fumed and leaned away from Draco. She whipped out her notes and began furiously scribbling down McGonagall's discourse on human Transfiguration.

Meanwhile, Draco continued his letter, shielding the parchment with his arm and pausing every now and then to make sure no one was looking in his direction.

_Father,_

_I need my hand of glory. Send it to me by the next post. Hope everything's doing well at home. How are the Death Eater meetings? You better not have let any of them use my room while I was away._

_Draco_

_----------_

Unsurprisingly, Scarlett received another deluge of mail that afternoon:

_Dear Scarlett,_

_As I write this in Transfiguration, I can't help thinking how boring this lecture on Human Transfiguration is. Now, if you were teaching (or if McGonagall shared any hint of your curves) this class would be interesting. Such is not the case._

_I would love to go meet up with you sometime. The next Hogsmeade weekend isn't for a while, but we can wait. Or maybe I can sneak out of school. After this morning's drool-inducing newsletter, I'd love to meet you in person._

_Love,_

_Zacharias_

_

* * *

Hi, Hot Stuff,_

_Um, so I thought there was nothing better to do during this Transfiguration lesson, so I thought I'd write to you. . . Yeah, loved your newsletter this morning. Hot ass—very spankable. Any chance I can meet it in person?_

_Terry_

_

* * *

Lovely Scarlett,_

_Potions is absolutely infernal. Could you possibly sneak Snape some Polyjuice potion with your hairs into his breakfast? Maybe then this lesson would be interesting. Because it certainly isn't now. I tell you, that man can't teach worth crap. Loved today's newsletter, by the way. When's the next one coming out?_

_Most affectionately,_

_Dennis_

_

* * *

Dear Scarlett,_

_I have a poem for you. It goes like this:_

_I love Scarlett._

_She isn't a harlot._

_Kisses and hugs I want to give to her,_

_And I'd also like to hear her purr._

_She also is very, very, very hot_

_Yes, when she touches me, I say "Ah, that hits the spot."_

_If you ever want to have a good time,_

_Go to Scarlett—she doesn't cost a dime!_

_Okay, so it isn't the best I've written. But it's better than my friend Gregory would write. He probably writes absolutely awful poetry. Wait, DO you cost a dime? Or what? Maybe you can clarify that for me._

_Many kisses and gobs of love,_

_Vincent_

_

* * *

My dear Scarlett,_

_Writing to you once in one day simply isn't enough. So I had to write again. My friends Draco and Vincent are probably writing you insincere love letters to you at this very moment. They're very malicious like that. You'll want to stay away from them and pay attention to me. Draco can be very mean to me sometimes. He says I'm an idiot who can't spel. Anyway, enough about that. I have a poem for you:_

_Scarlett is lovely, a nice crimson hue._

_I'll bet if you saw her, you'd like her too._

_She really knows how to make me feel fine_

_Her name is roses, her pictures are wine._

_They, all in all, are deliciously sweet_

_Most edible, from her head to her feet._

_You can get lost; keep your stripper and whore,_

_While I leave with Scarlett, who's ever much more._

_How'd you like it? Please write back—I'd love to hear from you._

_Love,_

_Gregory_

_

* * *

Dear Madam:_

_I didn't subscribe to your newsletter because I currently have a girlfriend and didn't want to upset her. However, my friends were reading one of your poems out loud at the breakfast table—the one called "What It Takes." The rhythm was good, the imagery passable. However, you made a grave error when you ended your poem with "You've got to be real hot." It should have been "You've got to be really hot." Just thought I'd point that out._

_Sincerely,_

_Ernie Macmillan_

----------

That afternoon Colin Creevey was teaching his brother Dennis the Summoning Charm. They had put at least a score of shelves between them and Madam Pince, and were now practicing on old books.

"Say the spell clearly, now, Dennis," Colin instructed his brother patiently.

Dennis nodded and waved his wand. "_Accio_," he said, and the book in Colin's hand jerked unexpectedly, then rocketed across the aisle. Dennis ducked, and the book hit his forehead with a meaty thud.

"Er. . . even more clearly than that," Colin said slowly, taking another heavy book from the shelves. Dennis shook his head dazedly for a moment, then pushed himself up from the floor.

"_Accio_," Dennis sighed. The book jerked out of his brother's hands, then fell to the floor with a flop, splitting along the spine. "Oh, goshdarn it. Pince is gonna be after our blood now!"

"No, it's okay!" Colin said hurriedly, picking up the torn book. It suddenly bucked in his hands and slapped his across the face. "Damn it! Pince must've put one spells on this one. _Reparo!_" The cover fell off altogether, and the spine disappeared entirely. The pages flopped in a wave over Colin before floating to the floor in a swirling cloud. "Damn, shit!" Colin hissed as the bespelled pages began furiously beating him around the ankles. "What's wrong with that lady?"

"Perhaps we should be practicing the _Reparo _spell, Colin," Dennis suggested cheekily. "That's a fourth-year spell."

"You're third year, you haven't even learned it yet," Colin snapped irritably. "And no more studying for today! You can learn the Summoning Charm next year."

"But then what will we do?" Dennis asked, making no move to help his older brother.

"Get out of this library for a start," Colin said, running away from the offending pages. They followed behind him in a flurrying trail, whispering across the wood floor. "Then we can think of something _fun_."

As they ran towards the exit, they passed Madam Pince, who looked up in shock as one of her books chased after the two Creevey brothers in a thousand pieces. "WHAT HAVE YOU TWO DONE!" she shrieked at them. "THAT'S _MY_ BOOK!"

Neither Colin nor Dennis could stop to placate her for fear that the pages would catch up with them. They ran down Hogwarts' stone corridors in breathless gasps as the white parchment chased after them in a bent determination.

Much to their relief, the book's spell seemed to grow weaker as it drew farther away from the library. As the two brothers rushed through Hogwarts, the pages lagged behind, then floated reluctantly to the ground. By the time they reached Gryffindor tower, only one last page still stuck with them, slapping itself half-heartedly against Colin's shin.

"Is that you're idea of fun?" Dennis joked half-heartedly as they flopped into armchairs by the common room fire.

"That's just another curse of schoolwork," Colin growled irritably. "And by no means is it fun."

Dennis sank into his plush chair, staring at the fire. "But what _do _you want to do? You've done nothing in the past few days but babble about starting a Harry Potter fan club. Oh, and you've also been gaping at _The Scarlett Letter_."

Colin suddenly perked up. "That's it! A fan club!"

Dennis sighed and shook his head, sinking even deeper into his warm armchair. "No, we've already gone over this. Harry was very severe about us starting a fan club. He says he'll charm a pair of Bludgers to chase after us for the rest of the year if we do."

"Idiot, that's not what I'm talking about," Colin said impatiently. "We can start a _Scarlett_ fan club! Isn't that a great idea?"

Dennis perked up. "I'd choose it over studying any day," he said sincerely.

Somehow, their conversation must have carried, because Seamus vaulted over to them from the other side of the room, dragging Dean behind him. "Am I wrong, or did I hear the words 'Scarlett fan club?' Hey, Kirke, Sloper! C'mere, Colin's got a great idea!"

And so the knot of boys grew into a small, babbling crowd. Hermione got up from her seat on the other side of the fire, shaking her head in annoyance. But, as she took her massive book to read elsewhere, she couldn't help smiling at the boys' idea. Her friend was certainly becoming quite a hit.

----------

More owls arrived at the dinner than ever before. Most of them held letters—notes to the students, more specifically, to the male population of Hogwarts:

_Dearest Zacharias,_

_Mind if I call you Zach? You are such a sweet young man. But I don't think I'd be able to teach Transfiguration. I'd be more inclined to go over such spells as Anatomical Enhancing. It can be very useful at times, but I don't think it's on the school curriculum (it should be!)._

_I'd absolutely love to go to Hogsmeade with you. We'll have to figure something out once we get closer to the next Hogsmeade weekend, but it sounds like a great opportunity to meet in person. I love you!_

_XOXO,_

_Scarlett_

_

* * *

My own Terry,_

_Nothing better to do in Transfiguration? So you thought you'd write to me? Shouldn't you do so, even if you have loads to do? pout But thanks for the compliments on the pictures. I do believe my nether end is rather spankable._

_Scarlett_

_

* * *

Dear Vincent,_

_Thanks for the poem—I find it really sweet. And as for costing a dime. . . just depends. For some oily, greasy, ugly person like Snape, it takes a couple thousand galleons to hook me. But for someone absolutely hot like you, I don't cost a thing! Bring it on!_

_Kisses,_

_Scarlett_

_

* * *

My darling Gregory,_

_I was absolutely delighted to receive more than one letter from you today. I need as much of you as I can get! Thanks for the touching compliments you gave me. I don't feel perfect until you say so. And your poem you sent was absolutely heart-touching. I cried when I read it, I was so happy. It is a thousand times better than the poem that your friend Crabbe sent me. He can hardly write at all. And your friend Malfoy isn't much better. I'm just being polite, writing back to them. But don't tell them. . . yet! It'll be our little secret. I'd love to meet you in person—maybe the next Hogsmeade weekend?_

_With all my love,_

_Scarlett_

_

* * *

Ernie, Ernie, Ernie. . ._

_My dearest, if I had used "really" instead of "real," it would have totally thrown off the rhythm. My friend Hermione Granger knocked grammar sense into me back when we were in elementary school, and I know exactly what is correct and incorrect grammar. But sometimes you have to sacrifice grammar for art. And such is one of the cases. I do hope you understand._

_Cordially,_

_Scarlett_

* * *

There was also at least one piece of mail Scarlett did not send:

_Draco,_

_Why would you need your hand of glory at Hogwarts? It's a dark object, and I hesitate to send it in the post. You have absolutely no common sense._

_Sincerely,_

_Your Father_

_P.S. No, I have not let a single Death Eater in your room—how many times will I have to tell you?_

* * *

Hogwarts students weren't the only ones getting a lot of dinner post today. A few of the posts received by Ministry official, amongst the hundreds:

_Hey Fudge,_

_Okay, so I heard Scarlett has been having some trouble in starting the British Wizarding porn business. What the hell are you guys thinking? You could make potfuls out of it._

_Terry_

_

* * *

Hi, Daddy,_

_I heard that Scarlett was getting trouble from some of the Death Eaters over starting the Wizarding porn business. Please don't give her any more trouble! Films may be Muggle-made, but Scarlett's amazing! Please, please, please let her start that business! I want to see her in the movies._

_Love,_

_Vincent_

* * *

To Lucius Malfoy, delivered by a Hogwarts barn owl:

_Dear Sir:_

_My name is Euan Abercrombie, and I am a second year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I subscribe to a newsletter called _The Scarlett Letter._ In it, Scarlett talks about the troubles that the Ministry have been giving her, particularly the ministry people of magical descent. She says that these men are trying to keep her from starting a British Wizarding porn industry. Please reconsider this awfulness. You and the Ministry could do great if you make a deal with Scarlett. I politely ask you to think this over, and I thank you for your time._

_Sincerely,_

_Euan Abercrombie_

----------

Delivered the next morning at breakfast:

_To Masters Colin and Dennis Creevey:_

Ancient Theory of Latin Grammar and Spellwork_ costs 50 galleons, 13 sickles, and 7 knuts to replaces. I expect you to send me the money as soon as possible, and I hereby ban you from the library for the next two weeks. I hope this teaches you how to better respect my books._

_Sincerely,_

_Madam Pince, Hogwarts Librarian_

----------

Colin dreamt up his idea for a Scarlett fan club on Tuesday. By Wednesday morning, right about the time he and Dennis received their most unfortunate letter from Madam Pince, all the boys were talking about it, from first to seventh year, from Gryffindor to Slytherin. And so Colin, Dean, and Seamus set the first meeting for 7:00 P.M., Wednesday evening, in the Gryffindor common room.

Needless to say, everyone knew about said meeting before lunch. So, that evening, Euan Abercrombie and Jimmy Cootes were assigned as doormen (or, more accurately, portrait-hole-men), and they held open the Fat Lady's portrait at let in any and ever Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw who came (heaven forbid that they would have to know the password to participate!). A handful of first-year Slytherins also squeezed in at the last minute, and no one had the heart to send those young kids away. So they didn't, and the meeting began.

Colin stood up and surveyed the gaggle of boys that encircled him. Never had the Gryffindor common room been so crowded. Granted, most of the girls had left to find peace elsewhere, but the entire male population of two additional houses more than made up for that. Incidentally, a few girls had decided to join, and they hadn't been refused a place in the fan club. Lavender and Parvati, even, had taken a place in an armchair in the corner and had pulled a large spiral-bound journal to take notes on the entire thing.

"Ahem," Colin began nervously. "We've met here today to begin a noble club—a fan club, that is, for the beautiful Scarlett. I came up with the idea not only because I love her, but because just about everyone one of you loves her as well. And so. . . well, there you go." He sat down quickly after this lame introduction. Lavender and Parvati giggled quietly in their corner.

Terry Boot stood up from a bright red sofa and made his way to the center of the room. "I believe we should choose a leader for this fan club. Colin, of course, is my first choice, because he had this whole idea."

They took a vote, and Colin won a majority. He blushed a brilliant red as he stood up, smiling from ear to ear. "Thanks, guys," he said. "And I'd also like to choose a few assistant leaders to help me run things—I doubt I could do it all by myself!"

In the end (five minutes later, in other words), they chose Seamus, Dean, and Terry as Colin's assistant leaders. So the four boys stood in the center of the Gryffindor common room, grinning. And then there was silence. . .

Colin's grin slowly slid off his face as he gazed from boy to boy. The Slytherin first-years shifted uncomfortably in their seats. The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws shot each other nervous glances. The Gryffindors sat in mild embarrassment as Colin, Seamus, and Dean stood in the middle of the room doing nothing. Everyone waited, and still no one said a word, until. . .

"Now what?" This was from Justin Finch-Fletchley.

"Uh. . ." Terry Boot fudged for a moment. "Uh. . . we, um, talk about her, I guess."

"Or," Seamus said suddenly, gifted with an instant inspiration, "we can write poems about her, or make stories and artwork devoted to her. Then we can go over it and admire everything Scarlett."

Needless to say, the first meeting of the Scarlett fan club lasted two hours past curfew. In that time Colin and Dennis wrote an X-rated story about them and Scarlett while Seamus and Dean designed a whopping great poster for their club, which included a most suggestive illustration of Scarlett surrounded by various Hogwarts boys. Three Hufflepuffs and two Ravenclaws busied themselves with a photo montage, while two Gryffindor girls and three more Ravenclaw boys squeezed together on one sofa to write some horrendously unreadable poetry. The rest of the fans gabbled excitedly about the newsletter. In the end, they all reviewed the various works of Scarlett art.

Then Colin took the center of the room during a particularly noisy moment of the festivities. "Hey, you all!" he yelled out. And after a minute or so, once he got their attention, he continued. "It's late, and we don't want McGonagall catching us. We'll meet back here sometime soon, at the same time as tonight. We'll make sure to let you all know about it; news travels fast around Hogwarts, anyway."

"And be careful going back to your common rooms," Terry warned them. "We don't want to run into Filch or anyone equally unpleasant."

And so the Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and Slytherins left the Gryffindor common room and slipped off into the dark halls of Hogwarts, still chattering at an unwisely high volume. Even so, everyone made it back to their common rooms without getting caught, except for the Slytherin first years, who about wet their pants when Filch jumped out at them in the dark and gave them each a detention.

----------

That night, Scarlett received two more letters, each in black ink on unassuming parchment:

_Dear Scarlett,_

_Enclosed is 29 galleons and 16 sickles. Please send your newsletter by the night post, so that I may receive it without the knowledge of anyone else. I would really appreciate it._

_Sincerely,_

_Verity Vector_

_

* * *

Dear Scarlett,_

_I wasn't going to get a newsletter at first, but my curiosity is too strong. I have scrounged around for 29 galleons and 16 sickles, and have enclosed it accordingly. Thank you, and I hope to enjoy _The Scarlett Letter

_Ronald Weasley_

**A/N:** That's all for now! Next chapter: Enter Pansy deeper into the mix. And Ron, too. Goyle writes to Scarlett. Oh, and Vector has a little secret! Among other things. Please review!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Okay, so at first I wasn't very pleased at the amount of reads and reviews I've gotten for this story. But then I found that the first C2 group it made it into was labeled "Publishable"! It made my day! And it made up for the lack of reads and reviews. Though I'd like you to still review—remember that I answer EVERY SINGLE review you send me.

Disclaimer: Gee, it still looks like I'm just Islander and not J.K. Rowling. If you think any differently, you should press the back button and commit yourself to some mental institution. That's all.

**Chapter Three**

**The Test**

Sadly, Scarlett was awoken more than once that night by owls bearing their overenthusiastic letters:

_My Dear Scarlett,_

_You may call me anything you like. Heck, you can call me Moaning Myrtle if it makes you happy! As for meeting in Hogsmeade, the next trip to the village is on Saturday the 18th—not this coming Saturday, but the next. What would you say to the idea of a date? It sounds real wicked to me!_

_Love,_

_Zach_

_

* * *

My Dearest Scarlett,_

_Bring it on? moan of ecstasy You bet! How would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me on the 18th? I'd really like it._

_Goodnight kisses,_

_Vincent_

_

* * *

Dear Scarlett,_

_Do you really need as much of me as you can get? You don't know how special that makes me feel! I think—no, I KNOW—that I'm in love with you. You are the best person in the whole world, and I couldn't wait until the morning to write to you._

_By the way, I'm really mad at my friend Draco right now. Do you know why? He refused to let us go to your new fan club! Can you believe it? I could have spent the whole evening admiring and discussing you, but he didn't kept simply because it was the Gryffindors that were running the whole thing. Can't you talk to him about it? I'd love it if you did. _

_Wishing you were here in bed with me,_

_Gregory_

----------

The next morning, Malfoy dashed off two more letters, though neither of them were to Scarlett:

_Father,_

_I hate you. I have loads of common sense! Why do you always have to be so disagreeable? Why can't I just have my fucking hand of glory?_

_Draco_

_

* * *

Dearest Mother,_

_Father is being a dickhead right now. Would you please send up my hand of glory, seeing as he's going out of his way to inconvenience me? I know that you, at least, have enough trust in me to know that I'll put it to good use. Hope everything's going well at home._

_With the greatest love,_

_Draco_

-----------

Meanwhile, up in Gryffindor tower, Ginny had just woken up. She pushed her way out of her golden comforter and through her scarlet bed curtains, yawning lazily. Her dorm mates were making a tremendous ruckus in getting ready. Dresser drawers banged, showers ran, and everyone was gossiping happily. Ginny sometimes marveled at all the noise four other girls could make.

Suddenly the door flew open, and Hermione bounded joyfully into the room, fully dressed and waving an open letter in her hands. "Ginny, you've got to see this!" she cried, laughing almost hysterically.

Ginny winced at the volume of Hermione's voice and clapped a hand to her ears. "Gosh, Hermione, I've just woken up," she mumbled. "No way you could tone things down a little bit, is there?"

"Oh, but you won't care!" Hermione insisted. "Not once you see _this_!"

"What is it?" Ginny's roommate Elizabeth bounded across her bed with her Hogwarts robes half-on.

"A letter," Hermione said brightly for Elizabeth's benefit. "Scarlett forwarded it to me. She sends me all the really good stuff."

Ginny looked down at the letter and gave it a cursory read-through.

Her jaw dropped. She read it through again, then again. Elizabeth, meanwhile, was jumping up and down over Hermione's shoulder, saying, "I can't see, I can't see! Who wrote it, Ginny? What's it say?"

Ginny shook her head in disbelief. "It can't be true, Hermione. . ." she whispered.

"It is!" Hermione said gleefully.

"Not _Professor Vector_?" Ginny breathed, staring at the letter again. "But you're right, it is!"

"What about Professor Vector?" Elizabeth said, peering over Hermione's shoulder once again.

" '_Please send your newsletter by the night post, so that I may receive it without the knowledge of anyone else,_' " Ginny read aloud. "Wow, that's some secret she's trying to keep."

"She subscribed to _The Scarlett Letter_?" Elizabeth said incredulously. "I didn't think any of the teachers would have it in them."

"But it's _Professor Vector_!" Hermione exclaimed. "Oh God, how am I going to look at her in the same way ever again? I have her today second block—I'm going to crack up all class! I won't even be able to meet her eyes."

"Are you kidding!" Ginny laughed. "No, this is excellent blackmail material! If she ever gives you any grief, just zap her with an oblique Scarlett threat, and she'll cave whichever way you wish."

"Are you sure. . .?" Hermione said doubtfully, running an unconscious hand through her bushy hair.

"Yeah, of course I'm sure!" Ginny said. She finally headed over to her dresser and pulled out a clean school outfit. "You're holding a second letter; who's it from?"

"Don't know yet," Hermione said. "I didn't get a chance to look."

She pulled out the letter. Meanwhile, Elizabeth took it upon herself to tell the other three girls in the dormitory about Professor Vector's secret subscription. Ginny took off her nightgown and donned her Hogwarts uniforms and robes. It wasn't until after she straightened her gold-and-red scarf that she looked up at Hermione again.

The bushy-haired witch stood in the middle of the room, gazing at the letter, aghast. She mumbled the words to herself, obviously through her sixth or seventh read-through. All the hilarity over discovering her professor's secret had disappeared.

"What's the matter, Hermione?" Ginny asked her best friend.

"It's. . . it's. . ." Hermione took a hold of Ginny's arm. "Let's get out of here." So Ginny, after snatching up her schoolbag, allowed Hermione to drag her out of the dorms and into to the spiral staircase, where they cloistered themselves in a windowed alcove halfway down.

"What's it say?" Ginny asked her friend concernedly. "You look like you're about to cry."

Hermione took a deep, shuddering breath and read the letter aloud by the bright morning sunshine. " 'Dear Scarlett, I wasn't going to get a newsletter at first, but my curiosity is too strong. I have scrounged around for 29 galleons and 16 sickles, and have enclosed it accordingly. Thank you, and I hope to enjoy _The Scarlett Letter_! Ronald Weasley.' " She looked at Ginny, a tear hovering in the corner of her eye. "He did it, Ginny. He wrote to Scarlett."

Ginny opened her mouth, quite ready to begin a furious diatribe against her brother. How could he scold her over looking at the Scarlett letter when he went behind her back and got himself a subscription? The hypocrite! She opened her mouth and had half-formed the first of many huffy words when she suddenly realized how hurt Hermione looked. And she realized—this was not the time to verbally thrash Ron. This was the time to comfort her best friend.

"Hermione, I'm sure Ron doesn't mean anything by it," she said softly, trying her best to keep the acerbic tone from her voice. "He's a boy; what do you expect."

"But he's _my_ boy!" Hermione sniffled. "Not Scarlett's boy! She has too many boys already! Can't she spare at least one for me? Can't she spare the one who's _supposed _to be my boyfriend?" She raised her voice as she continued bemoaning this new unlucky development.

"It's not Scarlett's fault," Ginny said a bit testily. "It's Ron's. Look, he's just curious. What did you expect him to do?"

"I expected him to be faithful to his girlfriend!" Hermione cried. "Why can't he do just that?"

"Please, Hermione, lower your voice," Ginny said quickly. "We don't want anyone eavesdropping."

Hermione managed to hush her wails, but just barely. "If that's the way Ron's going to be, he's no longer my boyfriend!"

"Nonononono!" Ginny said quickly. "Don't break up with him—not yet!" Truth be told, she thought her brother deserved it. But, on the other hand, she realized that Hermione didn't. "He's just—he's just had a moment of weakness. That's it! A moment of weakness. . . Give him a bit of time, he'll pull through."

Hermione wiped away her tears as she gave Ginny's words a moment's thought. Then: "Well, all right. I'll give him until dinner. If he hasn't changed his mind by then, I'm breaking up with him."

"You might as well break up with him now. There's no way he'll cancel his subscription so soon, especially not before he's gotten the first newsletter." Only Ginny didn't say this, as it would have only upset Hermione even more. Ooooh, but how she wanted to maul her brother at that particular moment!

"It's no fair!" Hermione wailed. "Harry would never do something like that! So why does Ron have to?"

"How do you know Harry wouldn't do something like that?" Ginny said, suddenly sulky. "He's certainly made no move towards me in the past six years. Who's stopping him from having a go at Scarlett?"

"But I just know he wouldn't do that to you," Hermione pressed, dabbing furiously at her eyes with a pure white handkerchief. "If you two were together, that is."

Ginny gritted her teeth. "Don't remind me," she said, touchy. "If you hadn't mentioned it, I might have gone for a WHOLE TWO MINUTES without remembering!"

"Sorry," Hermione said, another wave of tears overtaking her. Ginny was immediately ashamed over her outburst.

"But do you think we could get Scarlett to send a letter to Harry?" Ginny said, struck by sudden inspiration. "Just as a test?"

Hermione gave a sad sigh. "I suppose so," she said listlessly. "But I can hardly think about it right now, what with. . . what with Ron and all."

"I'll take care of it," Ginny said. "See you at breakfast." She flitted back up the stairs, and Hermione limped off in the opposite direction.

----------

"Good morning, Hermione," Harry said lazily as she bypassed Ron and took a seat next to her raven-haired friend.

"It is, isn't it, Harry?" Hermione said, a tad too cheerfully, as she took a large plate and began loading it with food. She looked like she wanted to say more, but thought better of it and sat down with a sigh.

"You okay, Hermione?" Harry asked.

"Absolutely glorious," Hermione replied baldly as she began stuffing sausage in her mouth, barely managing to catch the grease on her napkin before it rolled from her chin and down her neck.

"D'you want to sit next to me?" Ron asked, attempting to keep the hurt from his voice.

Hermione pointedly ignored him and turned to Harry. "Tranfiguration's first today," she said brightly. "I can't wait! We're actually doing magic this time."

"I didn't hear you," Ron interrupted. "Did you say you wanted to sit by me today, or did you not?"

"I practiced all night," Hermione informed Harry. "I'm going to wow Professor McGonagall in class today—she'll be so proud!"

"Um. . . Hermione?" Harry cut her off. "Did you or didn't you want to sit by your boyfriend?"

"Ginny!" Hermione suddenly called, totally ignoring Harry's question in favor of jumping up and meeting her red-haired friend at the door of the Great Hall.

Ron turned to Harry, his brow furrowed, and asked, "D'you get the feeling that something's up with Hermione?"

"Don't take it personally," Harry advised him. "She just has her moments; tiptoe around her for a while, and it'll pass."

* * *

Over on the other side of the Great Hall Gregory, Vincent, and Draco were all in a bad mood. They were (predictably) arguing over (predictably) Scarlett. Namely: they each had differing opinions over who would hook up with the blond-haired porn star.

"You two don't stand a chance," Draco said scathingly, examining his shining nails.

"Uh. . ." Vincent said, clearly wondering how to hold up his side of the argument. "Actually, I do. I don't see why Scarlett would like you any better than she'd like me. I'm more romantic than you."

"Bullshit," Draco replied easily, taking a bite of his chocolate donut. "My slick blond tresses are sexier than your wiry and singularly unattractive crap-colored locks. My finely-defined features outshine your chunky build, and my silky skin is irresistible. I also has a better fashion sense that you, and _lots_ more money. And _my_ measurements are 9.52 centimeters long and 4.01 centimeters thick. She's going to fall for me like a ton of bricks."

"What good will those measurements do you when she's never going to see them?" Vincent retorted, unwilling to mention that his blond-haired friend was altogether too many centimeters larger than him. "You're a snob, and I'm. . . I'm perfectly polite and caring. She'll drop you like a bag of baby acromantulas. Then she'll take me to bed and make sweet love to me."

"The hell she will," Draco sneered. "She's not fucking a lump of sod like you when there's a doable treasure like me lying in her path."

"I don't know," Vincent said thoughtfully. "From what I read in her newsletter, I got the impression that she's game for pretty much anything. Maybe she might do us both."

"Now you're compromising," Draco said triumphantly, "because you know you're losing the argument! But there's no compromises—either she's doing you or not. And I say _NOT_!"

"I say _DO_!" Vincent retorted.

"I say _NOT_!"

"I say _DO_!"

"_NOT_!"

"_DO_!"

"_NOT_!"

"_DO_!"

"Actually," Gregory cut in, hiding a smile, "She's most likely to hook up with _me_."

"No chance in a dragon's belly," Draco returned dismissively.

"You can't prove that," Vincent added, glaring at Gregory.

"Yes, I can!" Gregory insisted. "Because she told me—" he suddenly stopped short, remembering how Scarlett wanted to keep her favoritism a secret— "because she told me—because she told me that I'm very hot. . ." he finished lamely. His face fell as he realized he wasn't about to win the argument after all.

"Yeah, bloody right," Draco said with a wave of his hand. "She probably says that to everyone who writes her. You stand even less of a chance than Vincent, and that's saying something!"

"That's not true," Gregory said, his smile suddenly returning. "I have a fool-proof plan that'll ensure that she snubs you and hooks up with me."

"I'm _dying _to hear it," Draco said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Does it have anything to do with you flashing your 2-centimeter goods for her benefit? Because I seriously doubt that will work."

"No, it doesn't," Gregory replied coolly, not bothering to point out that his measurements were actually five times that length. "I'll simply write to her and tell you that you kept us from joining her fan club."

Draco stopped short. A blush crept into his face as he slowly realized that Gregory had, in fact, won the argument.

Vincent, meanwhile, flared up again. "I know!" he said angrily. "What was that all about, _Malfoy_? Do you hate Scarlett so much that you won't go do her fan club? You even had to keep your friends behind! She won't put up with _that_!"

"_Don't be stupid!_" Malfoy hissed angrily. "The club is run by _Gryffindors!_ Overrun, in fact. Don't you know what it would mean, making pals with Creevey and Finnegan and the likes? We'd be a laughingstock!"

"Better to be a laughingstock inside that club than a normal Slytherin outside!" Vincent retorted. "We had every right to go to that meeting, and you stopped us!"

Draco gritted his teeth. "_Damn_, I can't believe you guys actually want to join that thing! Scarlett or no Scarlett, it's filled with BLOODY GRYFFINDORS!"

Gregory shrugged as he began packing his bag. "It may be hard, dealing with that lot, but at least it would put us in good standing with Scarlett. She'll make sure to find her fan club members a whole lot more doable than. . . other people." He waved his hand disgustedly at Draco with these last two words, then stalked off through the tables.

Draco sighed and slumped against his plate, his nose inches from cold eggs and half-eaten donut. He shook his head slowly and directed a lump of egg gently into a pool of syrup. A voice in his ear caused him to jump.

"Wouldn't you rather do _me_?" Pansy whispered sadly, her lips brushing against his earlobe. "Why do you need Scarlett, when I'm right here in front of you?"

Draco dodged away from her and shot to his feet. "The truth is," he said abruptly, "I don't need Scarlett. I don't need either of you."

He glanced longingly over at the Gryffindor table, though only for a second before he strode from the Great Hall, leaving his girlfriend in tears.

----------

"Okay, _do_ take it personally," Harry whispered to Ron as Hermione ignored him completely and sat down next to Lavender and Parvati.

"But what did I do?" Ron asked as he morosely plunked his Transfiguration book on his desk.

"Well, you obviously did _something_," Harry said as he, too, pulled out his books. "And, by the way she's been acting, it must have been something pretty bad."

"She didn't say a single word to me the entire way up here!" Ron moaned as he slumped into his seat. "She just kept talking to you about our lesson and ignored all my questions. Isn't there anything I can do?"

"I have no idea," Harry said helpfully. "Looks like McGonagall is starting the lesson; we'd better stop talking."

And so, as the whole class began performing human Transfiguration, Harry and Ron continued their conversation between spells on a spare piece of parchment:

_You don't think she'll stay mad at me forever, do you?_

_Probably not.._

_Good. I really wouldn't want to lose my girlfriend any time in the foreseeable future._

_Haha, but by the way she's acting, she certainly seems to want to lose you. Do you think she might be breaking up with you?_

_Don't be ridiculous. Why would she want to do that?_

_Sigh I still think you did something to upset her, you clod. Can't you think what it must be?_

_Um. . . no?_

_Yeah, right, wanker. C'mon, has Intelligent!Ron packed up for the day? Go over everything you did in the last twenty-four hours. Something in that time span must have upset her._

_Well, let's see—_

_Don't leave anything out, by the way. You can tell me EVERYTHING._

_Good God, you look serious. When've you become my counselor? Sigh So—the last 24 hours. Well, I suffered in Potions, which was when I told Hermione that Snape was a bloody malicious fucker. Do you think that made her mad?_

_No, that couldn't have been it, Ron. She may have been scolding you, but she was really trying to hold back a laugh._

_Okay, then. . . We went to Charms next. I purposely and maliciously hit Pansy with a well-aimed fountain of urine. Maybe that's why Hermione was mad._

_Idiot! She KISSED you because of it!_

_Oh. Never mind, then. We had lunch after that, and I. . . oh, damn it! It must be my bad table manners! She's breaking up with me because of my eating habits! Harry, there's nothing I can do about it—please talk to Hermione, make her see sense!_

_Only one word, Ron: THINK! Just yesterday at dinner she said that your table manners were vastly improving. Did you do anything during break?_

_No. . ._

_Anything during Defense Against the Dark Arts?_

_Um, not that, either. And she found our kissing session last afternoon most enjoyable. And I did nothing during dinner, either._

_Did you go to the Scarlett Fan Club?_

_No, but I did subscribe to her newsletter. I sent the letter last—HOLY HOT BLOODY SHIT!_

_Yes, I see that you've finally come to your senses. That subscription just MIGHT be the reason your girlfriend won't talk to you._

_Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! Fucking bloody shitty wanking blasted Merlin! How the hell did she find out?_

* * *

Meanwhile, at the other side of the room, Hermione remained sullenly silent as she practiced human Transfiguration with a group of sixth-year girls. With a thrust of her wand, Parvati's hair turned into a magnificently perfect horse's mane.

"Gosh, Hermione, how do you manage that?" Lavender sighed, running her fingers through Parvati's new hair.

"Don't jab your wand, just thrust it fluidly, and keep your goal in mind," Hermione said listlessly.

"Okay," Lavender said cautiously. She lifted her own and jabbed it forward. Hermione's bushy brown hair immediately puffed out to twice its size before rippling out into a very dubious crimson brush.

"Whoa, what's with the color change?" Hannah Abbot asked, touching Hermione's new disaster with a single finger.

"Scarlet?" Parvati said with amusement, drawing out a tuft of Hermione's hair. "Exactly what was your goal in mind, Lav?"

"Scarlet," Lavender repeated morosely. "Scarlet, scarlet, Scarlett. That's it—Scarlett's on my mind."

Hannah patted her shoulder sympathetically. "That hussy's getting to be a real problem for all of us. She's grabbed the attention of every boy in the school."

"Show me how you did that spell again, Hermione," Lavender said. Hermione complied, and gave Susan Bones a perfect mane and a tail to match. Lavender began trying the spell again as she turned back to Hannah. "Seamus has hardly paid attention to my flirting since Scarlett intruded in on our peace and quiet Monday morning. He always has his nose stuck in that Scarlett mag. It's most annoying."

"And, because of her, my seduction of Blaise is now simply dismal," Daphne Greengrass lamented. "And Pansy and Draco. . .! Ever since that newsletter, Draco has treated her worse than shit! Actually," she added as an afterthought, "he treated her like that before _The Scarlett Letter_ came along, but it's all come to heads in the last few days. Pansy's my best friend, and it hurts me to see her in tears all the time."

Susan sighed. "Do you think there's anything we can do?" she asked. "Any way to get rid of her?"

The girls all pursed their lips pensively and fell into deep thought.

----------

Hermione was right. As she sat down in her desk in the front of the Arithmancy room at second block, she could hardly hold back a giggle. For a moment it didn't matter that she was still hurt and angry over Ron's betrayal; the idea that her own Professor Vector, a short, round-faced women in her early fifties, was ogling _The Scarlett Letter_ couldn't help but brighten her dour mood. It felt good to laugh again, even if just for a moment.

Perhaps it was the fact that Hermione knew she had a certain power of her Arithmancy professor, but that day she didn't take any notes during the lecture. Instead, she wrote a note or two to Ginny, then attended to other business. For a while she forgot Ron, and instead enjoyed a quiet chuckle as she watched Professor Vector.

Halfway through the class Professor Vector stopped the lecture and assigned her class an essay, due at the bell. Hermione obediently pulled out a piece of parchment and began writing. However, she couldn't help pausing her composition to look up at her teacher.

Professor Vector spent a whole half-hour reading something (_A certain magazine, I'll bet_, Hermione thought with a smile) under her desk. After that, she began writing a letter. It was as she paused to think of her next sentence that the bell rang.

Vector jumped in surprise and said quickly, "Remember, test next class. And leave your essays on your desk. Granger, if you would please collect them for me?"

Hermione's classmates all stampeded eagerly towards the door to get to lunch while she stayed behind. She smiled wryly and began picking up each essay from its desk and piling it in her arms. She took a deliberately excessive amount of time so as to sneak a couple extra glances at Professor Vector.

It was as she picked up the third essay that the fireplace in Vector's adjoining office suddenly filled with emerald flames. Professor Flitwick tumbled out and brushed the ash off his robes, then entered the Arithmancy classroom. Vector jumped and suddenly looked very uncomfortable.

Her curiosity piqued, Hermione slowed her pace.

"Ah, Verity," Flitwick said gaily. "How's it going?"

"Fine, Filius," Vector said politely as she shielded her letter with her arm.

"Wonderful," Flitwick said, clearly unsure of what to say next. "Yes, absolutely marvelous. And. . . and. . . um, who are you writing to?" He tried to sound casual, but Hermione knew he was desperately searching for a topic of conversation.

"None of your business!" Vector snapped, whipping the letter out of his sight. Hermione stuffed her knuckles in her mouth to hold back a giggle as she picked up the eighth essay.

"Uh, sorry," Flitwick said contritely. "I shouldn't have. . . Heh heh." He twisted one foot around the other and took a deep breath. He exhaled, then inhaled again, as if steeling himself for a leap off the Astronomy Tower. "Er. . . Verity. . ." his voice dropped to a whisper. Hermione took the tenth essay in her hands. "Verity. . ."

"_What?"_ Vector said impatiently. Hermione picked up the eleventh essay and slowed her paced.

"Um. . . about Hogsmeade next weekend. . ."

Hermione stopped completely and stood stock still.

Verity's manner became frosty as she hissed under her breath, "I've already said no, Filius. How many more times do I have to repeat myself?" Maybe, in her whispering, she had hoped to keep her favorite student from hearing, but Hermione caught every word.

"At least once more, Verity," Flitwick said like a true lovelorn idiot. "As always." Hermione hastily turned a laugh into a hacking cough as she picked up the thirteenth essay.

Verity surveyed the tiny professor with a patronizing gaze. "Good day, Filius," she said, finalizing the exchange. Hermione picked up the last two essays as Flitwick shuffled dejectedly from the classroom.

"Thank you, Granger," Verity said as Hermione handed her the essays. The Arithmancy professor tried to sound grateful to her favorite student, but Hermione could tell just how harried she was by her brief conversation.

----------

Many of the boys were lucky enough to receive a few short letters from Scarlett at lunch:

_Dear Moaning Myrtle,_

_You did say I could call you Moaning Myrtle, didn't you, my Zachy-wacky? I think I will. It's such a beautiful name! From now own I'll even address the envelopes to Moaning Myrtle. What fun! Could you think of a nickname for me as well?_

_As for Hogsmeade on the 18th, I have to check my schedule. Between interviews, photo shoots, and five movies, a girl like me doesn't have much free time. I'll write you back closer to the day, and we'll see what happens._

_Love,_

_Scarlett_

_

* * *

Dear Draco,_

_**Pout**. I must admit, I'm a bit hurt. Did you really refuse to join my fan club? And you even kept your friends from going, too? Bad Draco! Please reconsider, and don't write me back until you've been to at least one of the meetings._

_Cordially,_

_Scarlett_

_

* * *

Dearest Gregory,_

_You don't know how terrible I felt when I learned that Malfoy had kept you from going to my fan club! You know how sensitive I am—I cried for ages. I don't handle rejection well, so when I learned that Malfoy had not only refused to go himself, but kept his friends away as well, I nearly had a nervous breakdown. You should reconsider having him as your friend, because he certainly isn't a good one. Give him a good punch from me._

_And about Gryffindors running the club—that's perfectly all right. You should make friends with a few of them. I know that it's customary for Slytherin and Gryffindor to tear each others' throats out, but you both are a good bunch. But I'm sure you're already open to the idea of making friends with the lot. I can't imagine you being one the of the Slytherin boys who's been treating my friend Hermione like crap._

_You know, I believe I'm in love with you, too. You are such a kind, sweet young man, and I admire your devotion and faithfulness. What would you say to a date at Hogsmeade on Saturday the 18th?_

_All my love,_

_Scarlett_

----------

On a piece of dirt-smudged parchment in third-block Herbology:

_She didn't talk to me during lunch, either, Harry!_

_That much is obvious. She seemed okay when she entered the Great Hall, almost as if she'd been laughing. But once she set eyes on you, she looked about ready to cry._

_Okay. . . what should I do?_

_Unsubscribe to _The Scarlett Letter_, and quick._

_Um, Harry, you should have written "quickly."_

_. . . What?_

_Sorry, it's just that Hermione's really hammered proper grammar into me. You made a common adjective-adverb mix-up._

_You're changing the subject._

_. . . Maybe._

_Stop looking so shifty, Ron. Look, you really, really need to forget that newsletter._

_But why? What harm is it doing to Hermione? I only want to look at Scarlett's pictures; it's not like I'm actually having sex with her._

_You're still betraying Hermione by doing this. I'm dead serious. So what that you're not actually having intercourse with a scarlet harlot? It's the thought that counts. If you're thinking about it, it's just as bad._

_C'mon, Harry. I'll merely read _The Scarlett Letter _for a little bit. Just one issue. That should keep me happy._

_No._

_No more than one._

_No._

_Just a few quick read-throughs._

_No. Why do you want to do this so badly, anyway? Isn't Hermione enough for you?_

_Please, Harry, don't say stuff like that. Hermione's absolutely wonderful. In my opinion, she's perfect for me. But I'm a teenage boy full of hormones. Is it wrong to want to see Scarlett's pictures?_

_If you have a girlfriend, you're definitely in the shady area._

_But I never get to see any of Hermione! She's always dressed so modestly, and in the winter she never wears less than long sleeves, a bulky sweater, and thick pants._

_A girlfriend-boyfriend relationship isn't all about hormones, Ron._

_I know, Harry. But I. . . I don't really know. I'm all confused. Do you truly think Hermione will break up with me over this?_

_Ron, she's friends with Scarlett. Scarlett will most likely tell her every single thing you do regarding this newsletter._

_Darn! Why do girls have to be so nosy? And why can't they be more reasonable?_

_So are you unsubscribing?_

_No._

_Make a list, Ron, of all the things you like about Hermione. Then go over it. Then think about what you'd be giving up if Hermione broke up with you over this. I'm telling you, you don't want to lose the people you love. Take it from someone who knows._

* * *

Ron shot Harry a furtive glance over the top of his Flutterbulb pot. His best friend, Ron realized with a twinge of guilt, looked quite miserable. The youngest Weasley brother couldn't help but thinking about the last note Harry had written to him.

_You don't want to lose the people you love_. Ron shot his raven-haired friend another glance. _Is that what Harry's think about right now? He looks absolutely crushed. If that's what it's like to lose the people who you love. . ._

Ron determinedly finished potting his Flutterbulb, then pulled out a spare piece of parchment and made a long list:

_Things I Love About Hermione:_

_1: Her determination to get everything done properly and on time._

_2: The way she always pushes me to do outstanding, instead of letting me settle for acceptable._

_3: Her bushy brown hair, which is very warm in the winter._

_4: Her vibrant smile._

_5: Her colorful personality._

_6: The way she bosses people around. Most people find it annoying—heck, I do, even—but it's also endearing. . . and sexy!_

_7: Her soft, red lips._

_8: The fact that she loves me, too._

_9: She's always pleased when I do well._

_10: The way how she helps me correct my mistakes, but doesn't actually do it for me._

_11: Her hands on my hips._

_12: She never ogles other guys._

_13: Her legs._

_14: She may be a freaking genius, but she's also freaking fun to be around._

_15: It's so easy to make her laugh, and so easy for her to make me laugh._

_16: Her shining face._

_17: Okay, pretty much her whole body. . ._

And on it went.

* * *

Harry and Ron had a free period after Herbology. As they walked back up to Gryffindor Tower, Ron turned to his best friend.

"I've come up with an idea," The ginger-haired Weasley said.

"I'm all ears," Harry replied.

"I'm not going to glance even once at _The Scarlett Letter_," Ron said. "And I'm going to focus on being a good boyfriend for Hermione. In fact, I'm going to write a letter to Scarlett right now canceling my subscription. It might not make the evening post, but it should get to her before morning."

Harry smiled. "And you thought of that all by yourself. I'm so proud of you." The last comment, at least, was sincere.

----------

Meanwhile, Hermione and Ginny had taken private refuge in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Tiptoeing carefully around a large puddle of toilet water, they leaned against the sinks and were just about to begin talking when Moaning Myrtle herself floated through the door of her stall.

"Oh, hi, Hermione and Ginny," Moaning Myrtle said, her tone unusually bright.

"Hello, Myrtle," Ginny said cautiously. Hermione just sniffed and wiped a tear from her eye.

"What's the matter, Hermione?" Myrtle crooned, noticing the bushy-haired girl's tears. "Are you sad?" If anything, the idea of misery caused her great relish.

"It's nothing," Hermione said in a small voice.

"Oh, good," Myrtle said, "because I haven't got time to listen to the tedious problems of adolescence. I just heard it from Peeves that Nearly-Headless Nick takes a bath in the Prefects' Bathroom every month on the ninth at 3:00 in the afternoon."

"That would be today," Hermione said.

"That would be right now," Ginny added.

"Too true," Myrtle said brightly. "I don't know why he does it, seeing as a bath wouldn't do anything to a ghost, but that's not my concern. I have voyeuristic duties to fulfill! Pip pip."

And she disappeared down her toilet, showering Hermione and Ginny with a fountain of water.

Hermione sniffed again, and a tear mingled with the stale toilet water that clung to her cheeks. Ginny patted her shoulder comfortingly. "You're worried, aren't you, Hermione?" she said to her friend.

Hermione nodded. "I don't want to lose Ron, I really don't! But he hasn't changed his mind yet. I doubt he will." A procession of tears made their solemn way down her cheeks.

"I totally agree with you." Only, once again, Ginny kept back her true thoughts. Instead, she said softly, "Don't worry, there's still time. He won't disappoint you. And if he does," she added as an afterthought, "I'll make sure he pays."

Hermione dissolved into tears again. She slumped against the sinks and said miserably, "I made a list of all the things I love about Ron. And—and I realized just how much I'd miss him. I don't want to break up with him! But I don't want a boyfriend who's unfaithful, even if its only in his thoughts. I stand by what I said before: if he hasn't cancelled his subscription by dinner, I'm breaking up with him."

She dissolved in another fresh wave of tears. Ginny put her arm around her, and they stood in Moaning Myrtle's waterlogged bathroom for a long time, waiting and worrying.

----------

On a sickeningly flowery piece of parchment, scented heavily with perfume and delivered at dinner:

_My most darling little boy,_

_Of course you can have your hand of glory, Draco! I have enclosed it in this post. I know you will use it wisely, and I will be having a very serious conversation with your daddy. Thank you for being such a wonderful son! I love you so oodly much!_

_Kisses and hugs,_

_Your doting Mommy_

* * *

Meanwhile, at the Gryffindor table Harry received his own letter:

_Dearest Harry,_

_I am a great fan of yours. If I was a boy, you'd certainly give me a run for my money in the sexiness department! I think you'd make a good porn star; heck, you'd do even better starring opposite me! How's it sound? Or is it not your thing? Well, I just wanted to write and tell you how much I admire you. Not only do you have an incredible bum and wonderfully handsome black hair, but you are also brave and noble. That's a very difficult combination to find nowadays. To express my gratitude, I wanted to send you a free copy of my new newsletter, _The Scarlett Letter. _How does that sound? Reply by the next post, and I'll send another letter with the magazine._

_Love,_

_Scarlett_

Harry gave the letter one quick read-through, then dropped it disinterestedly into the pocket of his robes. He looked up and down the Great Hall, then turned back towards Ron.

"Nice black eye Malfoy's got," Harry remarked. "I wonder who gave it to him?"

"Whoever it was, we must send them roses," Ron said empathetically. He piled roasted lamb on his plate and began eating with relish.

"Someone must have socked him a good one," Harry said, pleased. "Maybe it was Goyle; if I had such an awful friend as Malfoy, I'd be punching him at least once each day. Ah, here comes Hermione!"

Ron jumped nervously and took a deep breath. "Do you think she's forgiven me?" he whispered to Harry, barely able to contain a note of panic. "What if it wasn't about the whole Scarlett thing? What if it was something else?"

"Don't worry," Harry whispered back. "She'll. . . she'll. . . well, let's just see what happens."

Ron stood up and took a few nervous steps toward his girlfriend. "Hermione!" he said, his voice masked with a false cheer that inadequately covered his agitation.

She didn't even look at him. "Hermione!" he cried in disappointment. "Please, talk to me!"

She passed right by him, making sure to shoulder him with her wickedly heavy schoolbag. Then she stalked off towards the Ravenclaw table.

"Hermione!" Ron called after her, now deeply hurt. "Don't leave me!" Neither of them noticed the owl that flew low over the Gryffindor table and deposited its letter on Hermione's empty plate.

"Hermione!" Ron cried again. He caught up with his girlfriend and was now inches from her bushy hair. "Hermione, say something!"

"WHAT?" Hermione screamed, whirling around so quickly that Ron stumbled a whole three feet backwards and nearly overbalanced.

"Please don't be mad with me," he whispered, his eyes filled with anxiety. "I. . . I can be a real prick at times, but I never mean to hurt you."

"Oh, do you not?" Hermione retorted furiously. "You _never meant to hurt me_, did you?" Tears of grief flowed through her irrepressible rage. "Well, YOU DID!"

The whole of the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables were goggling wide-eyed at the pair, unsure of what was going on. Parvati and Lavender clung on to every single word. But these insignificant details escaped the conflicting couple. "I. . . I. . . I'm sorry," Ron whispered, looking only at Hermione. "I—I've done some dumb things, but I'm really sorry now, and I really don't want you to be mad at me anymore."

"Like that's going to change anything," Hermione replied bitterly. "It's all what you want, and its nothing about me!" Tears ran unchecked down her face. "You, Ron, are so. . . _dumb!_ You care nothing about me! Which is why I must tell you—" Here her voice wavered, then broke. She took a deep breath, however, and opened her mouth to continue.

But she got no further, because Ginny suddenly ran up to Hermione, waving a letter in her hands. "Hermione!" she cried out. "No, Hermione, stop!"

"_What?_" Hermione wailed in anguish, whipping around to see what had her friend so excited. Every Gryffindor and Ravenclaw turned their heads to match her.

"I have something for you!" Ginny said happily. She shoved the letter into Hermione's hands and whispered, "It's for Scarlett—she sent it our way just in time."

Ron didn't hear his little sister. Nor did he understand when Hermione suddenly put their argument on hold to read this message:

_Scarlett,_

_I have been rethinking things through, and have decided to discontinue my subscription to _The Scarlett Letter. _There are greater things at work that my overexcited hormones, and I just now realized it. So please don't send me the newsletter, because I will not be reading it. Thank you very much for your time, and may I wish you good luck with your audience._

_Sincerely,_

_Ron_

Hermione stood rooted to the floor, gaping at the letter. For a full minute no one said a word. Tears ran down her face as she reread the letter, the reread it again. It wasn't until then that Ron took initiative and broke the silence.

"Um, Hermione," he said, his voice a bit cracked, "I—I've been absolutely trollish in my decisions, but I've seen the light now. Please give me a second chance. For whatever I did, I'm really, really sorry."

Hermione handed the letter unconsciously back to Ginny, tears running down her face. "You are so, so stupid, Ron," she whispered, her voice choked.

And she grabbed him by the waist and pulled him into a deeply fueled kiss. Ron looked so stunned that he didn't react for a full second. But, as soon as he realized was Hermione was doing, he responded eagerly. The whole hall looked on in benevolence, but the oblivious couple didn't care a single jot. For an eternal moment they stood locked in each other's embrace, their appetent lips pressed together.

Then they broke apart. Ron was so stunned that he looked a bit loopy. Hermione was still crying, but a vibrant smile melted through the tears and lit up her countenance.

"I could never stay mad at you for long," Hermione whispered. "You are completely forgiven." And she pulled him into another kiss.

Luna had stood up and wandered over to the happily reunited couple. Surveying them with great interest, she said, "It's too bad we have no nargles to consecrate this blessed moment."

Hermione chuckled at her loony friend and pulled just far enough from Ron so that they could look into each others' eyes. "My dear," she said, "I do believe I have something to show you."

"What is it?" Ron asked, his curiosity aroused. "Will I like it?"

"Most definitely," Hermione replied, her smile widening.

"It doesn't have to do with school, does it?" Ron asked worriedly.

"No," Hermione replied, "but it involves a _lot_ of studying."

"So what is it?"

Hermione gasped in feigned shock. "Oh, but I can't show you _here_! It's a most secret something—let's go a broom closet somewhere, and you can see every last detail."

Ron looked highly delighted and absolutely dazed as he and Hermione left the Great Hall in each other's arms. The doors closed behind them, and for the briefest moment there was silence.

Then everyone began talking again. Harry, however, stood silent, still watching the door his friends had left through. Ginny joined him a moment letter, and they stood beside each other for a while, their shoulders almost touching.

"They're perfect for each other," Ginny prompted conversation.

"Yes, they are," Harry said.

"I. . . wonder if I have such a man for me?" Ginny pushed. "If so, I hope he's as good as my brother."

Harry turned to face her and raised his eyebrows. "You're actually admitting that your brother is good?"

"Of course," Ginny said, fully sincere. "He's the kind of boyfriend any girl hopes for. Hermione is one lucky girl."

**A/N: **Next chapter—The Slytherins join the Scarlett fan club. Draco writes poetry (!), and something pushes Pansy (and, in consequence, the other girls) over the edge. Oh, and a nasty rumor about our favorite porn star is spread around Hogwarts. Stick around and read all about it! See you later.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Yes, I'm back again! I had a whole, whole lot of fun writing this chapter, so I think you guys will really enjoy it, too. It's uber-long, so thank me in a review!

Disclaimer: Ours is essentially a tragic age, so I don't own Harry Potter. Nor do I own the first part of the disclaimer—that belongs to D. H. Lawrence. Darn it!

**Chapter Four**

**Competition and Conspirators**

With Friday morning came Scarlett's second newsletter, much to the delight of the boys and the horror of the girls. The cover was even more revealing that last time. Scarlett now stood in what appeared to be a gaudy harem, clad in an improperly-secured bedsheet and surrounded by half-naked men that were bowing low at her feet. In the background the rest of the harlots were slinking away jealously, most of them covered up by big, red letters that read, "SCARLETT RETURNS!" Some excerpts from this new newsletter:

_A Quick Story About Sausages_

_This happened to me just this past Tuesday night. I was in a strip club in London, taking notes for my new movie "The Back Entrance." And here I was, minding my own business, when in walked Minister of Magic Fudge himself! Apparently he has some activities he keeps a dark secret. . ._

_Well, you know me—I love a challenge. And my character in the movie also seduces the Prime Minister of England (remember, this is one of the Muggle movies). So, as Fudge was watching the strippers with a goofy smile on his face, I sauntered over with an exaggerated swing of my hips. "Hello," I said, pretending to be just another Muggle, just as he thought I thought he was. "That's a sexy lime-green bowler hat you're wearing."_

_I swear his pants didn't start tenting until I talked to him. He blushed a bright red and mumbled, "Um, thanks." He didn't look at my eyes, but more at some spot in the middle of my chest (Merlin, I can only imagine why)._

"_And that lovely pinstripe cloak!" I continued. "Oh, it makes you look so trim and fit."_

_Good God, and he even believed me. I honestly thought he needed to chuck that awful thing in the fire, along with his stupid hat—it looked like his head was stuck in a bowling ball! _

"_Oh, um, yeah," he replied. "I, er, work out every day."_

_Liar._

"_I can tell," I replied. "Do you think. . . any chance I could see those workout muscles?"_

"_I was about to ask you the same question!" he said joyously, staring overtly at my breasts._

_Pervert._

_To be honest, it was actually nothing of a challenge to drag him off to some motel and strip him naked. Then we shagged each other. He was absolute rubbish. But there is one thing I will never forget about him, however much I wish to._

_He seriously looked like a sausage. Like a skinny link sausage, no less, not a big, fat Bratwurst. Ugh. It was absolutely disgusting. I think I left sometime in the middle of the night, then went home and took an endless shower._

_Anyway, I awoke the next morning and took breakfast in a small restaurant off Charing Cross Road. I ordered a breakfast plate, all ready to eat a large, healthy meal._

_Wouldn't you know, it came with link sausage. It lay there, wrinkled and brown on my place and dripping with grease. I thought of Fudge and nearly threw up in my mouth. But I began eating anyway. I put off the sausage until last. Then I speared it on a fork and put the meat in my mouth._

_I took it out immediately and threw it away, feeling nauseous. I swear, I'm never doing a government official again.  
_

* * *

_Flower Sonnet_

_I hold a crimson flower in my hands;_

_A young man holds me in his firm embrace._

_I stroke its scarlet petals where it stands_

_Aflow'ring, and it sets my heart arace._

_My young man also strokes his crimson prize,_

_His hands aflow upon by back and breast_

_And all my being, enraptured in my eyes._

_I stroke the flow'r, and let him stroke the rest._

_I peel a petal from my scarlet rose;_

_He peels my clothing from my silky skin;_

_The petal falls and curls beneath my toes,_

_My clothing falls to let my young man in._

_The rose I ravish, deadened to its plight;_

_It's me he'll ravish, deep into the night._

* * *

If the pictures were revealing last time, it was nothing compared to the ones in this issue. Scarlett seemed to like the idea of clothes even less than before, while she favored even more studs and a variety of disgraced, outdone women in the background.

Most notable in this issues was Scarlett's choice of bras. No ordinary top could do—she had to be extraordinary. In a photo of her sitting by a sewing machine she wore two thimbles, as she seemed short of alva jars; she also seemed short of panties, for, although her legs curved conveniently enough to hide her privates, only a mere thread ran around her waist as an impromptu thong. In another Wizarding photo she found that the groping hands of one of her thong-clad men made the best bra. It yet another photo, this time beach-themed, she seemed to have lost her top and bottom completely, and thought that piling sand atop her privates would cover herself sufficiently.

Needless to say, after the initial clamor over Hogwarts breakfast, she left the guys speechless for quite some time. All they could do was clutch their newsletters in their hands and stare, disoriented, at the provocative pictures.

The boys weren't the only ones at a loss for words. Lavender and Parvati goggled at their copy, though they weren't nearly impressed as their male classmates. Lavender looked barely able to speak, and Parvati could only whisper wonderingly, "What does she think she is, some kind of porn star?"

"Obviously," Hermione said cheerfully.

Ginny leaned forward and eagerly requested, "Read us one of the poems, Lav!"

Lavender looked up with a hesitant expression. "They're very explicit, Ginny," she said doubtfully. "Are you sure?"

"Read the least explicit poem, then," Ginny prompted happily.

"This one," Parvati said, pointing, "the one entitle 'Flower Sonnet' is possibly the least graphic. How about I read that one?"

So she did. Harry and Ron listened to the composition, after which Harry decided to take his best friend to visit Dobby in the kitchens before he succumbed to the newsletter's temptations.

On their way down the empty stone corridors Ron pulled out a letter he received at breakfast. "It's from Scarlett," he said dubiously. "I'm almost afraid to open it."

"I'll do it for you," Harry offered. So Ron handed him the letter, and Harry pawed open the sealed letter with his fingertips, as his fingernails were too short to slit the wax.

"Read it aloud," Ron prompted him.

"Okay," Harry said, flicking open the letter. "Here it is:

'_Dear Ron,_

_Hermione's told me all about you. I know this isn't the best advertisement for my newsletter, but I must say that I'm proud of you for canceling the subscription. Apparently you are every bit as good as Hermione describes you. You deserve her._

_Sincerely,_

_Scarlett_

_P.S. I have enclosed a refund.' "_

Harry handed over the refund money, and Ron grinned widely as he let the gold and silver run through his fingers. Harry shook his head and said, "See, wasn't it worth it?"

"You needn't have told me after last night," Ron said, his eyes suddenly glazing over at the memory. "Hermione and I spent a glorious age in that broom cupboard on a _most serious_ expedition."

Harry smiled wryly as they reached the painting of a bowl of fruit. "I'm sure you did," he said, sounding quite pleased with himself.

"And it's all thanks to you," Ron said. "If you hadn't made me see sense, I'm sure it wouldn't have happened. So thanks a lot, mate."

"Hey, what are friends for?" Harry said as he reached up to tickle the pear.

* * *

Unfortunately, Malfoy received a letter that was much less satisfactory that Ron's:

_Draco,_

_How dare you go behind my back to your mother?! After I said no, you had no right to convince her to send you the hand of glory. What the hell are you going to do with it anyway? Make kinky sex pose photos?_

_With my greatest displeasure,_

_Your Father_

----------

By that afternoon the news had spread across the whole school: there was to be another meeting of the Scarlett fan club that very night. Same time, same place: 7:00 that evening in the Gryffindor common room. Every male from first year Slytherin to seventh year Gryffindor had heard about it, and every one of them (bar half-a-dozen at the most) were planning to attend.

Gregory, Vincent, and Draco heard about it right after class when they had just settled down in their dormitory for a quick break. Theodore burst suddenly into the room, shouting, "The next Scarlett fan club meeting's today! I swear, I'm not missing it this time!"

"You're actually going?" Blaise scoffed. "I wouldn't be caught dead with a bunch of Gryffindors; count me out!"

"I'm going with Theo," Gregory said. "No way in hell you're making me skip out on my girl again."

Blaise let out a bark of laughter. "Oh great, another Slytherin has caved in! What's this house coming to? Draco, at least, will have the sense to stay behind."

Draco gulped. "Actually. . . I'm. . ." he stopped. "Yeah, I'm staying behind. I'm with Blaise."

Gregory rounded furiously on Draco, his dull eyes blazing. "Oh? And what about what Scarlett—?"

"Gregory, I'm warning you!" Draco cried, his pale blue eyes matching his friend's in their intensity.

And Gregory stopped mid-sentence, only to let out huff and say, "On your own head be it." And he left it at that.

"What about you, Vincent?" Blaise said, unable to fully keep the menace from his voice. "Certainly you aren't going? Vincent?"

For Vincent wasn't answering; he held one of his thick puce socks in his hands and stroked it lovingly.

"What the hell are you doing?" Draco asked his friend. "You aren't masturbating your sock again, are you?"

"No, I've spelled it," Vincent said proudly. "Now, whenever someone else other than me touches it, they start throwing up. Care to see?" He balled it up and threw it at Draco, who ducked just in time. The sock flew over Draco's bed and landed right on the other side.

"And why would you _want_ to spell a sock to make others throw up?" Draco asked dubiously.

"So that people _coughlikeyoucough_ don't going _stealing_ them!" Vincent said as loftily as he could manage.

"I don't steal your socks!" Malfoy retorted.

Vincent raised his eyebrows. "So whose green socks are on your feet right now?"

Malfoy looked down at his puce-clad toes. "_Puce_, Vincent," he corrected his friend. "Not green. And all my socks are dirty; I thought you wouldn't mind, seeing as you can't possibly want such ugly socks."

"Watch what you're calling ugly!" Vincent cried, inflamed. "That's my favorite pair you're wearing!"

Malfoy peeled off the socks in disgust and tossed them at Vincent. "If you say so," he said. "I call them my last resort."

Vincent picked up his socks between his thumb and index finger, then raised his wand and spelled them as well. Blaise watched the discourse with a single raised eyebrow. After heaving a longsuffering sigh, he said, "You never answered my question, Vincent. Are you with the fan club, or are you keeping your Slytherin pride?"

"If I may say so," Vincent said, "fuck Slytherin pride. I'm with Theo and Gregory. You two are outnumbered."

Blaise raised his eyes to heaven, as if begging for patience, and huffed out another sigh. Then he plopped down on the bed and pulled out his copy of _The Scarlett Letter_.

----------

That evening brought along with it a most interesting revelation: Vincent, Gregory, and Theodore Nott weren't the only Slytherin boys planning on attending the Scarlett fan club. About every other boy in the house stampeded for the portrait hole at five minutes to 7:00. Pansy stood at the entrance to the girl's dormitories and watched each boy amidst the mad rush, trying to pick out Draco from among them. She didn't see him.

_He's not going after all_, she thought to herself. _What a relief. Well, I'd better get myself ready._ And she rushed off to her dormitory. The place was empty—Daphne and her other friends were down in the common room talking. She quickly flitted over to her trunk and searched through it for a long time before she found a miniscule green thong and a fine silk robe made of a shimmering gray material. She'd do herself up in Slytherin colors—that should make him happy.

Pansy retreated to the bathroom, where she stripped off her school uniform, then her underwear. She stood totally naked in front of the mirror, surveying her body with a trembling lip. For a moment she thought she looked beautiful, but then she suddenly changed her mind. She wasn't beautiful enough to please Draco.

Good gosh, was that a rash on her breast? _No wonder Draco finds me so unattractive_, she thought miserably. _Is there anything else he doesn't like? Are my legs too long, are my hips too wide, my breasts too big? Is it my face or my hair? Am I supposed to get a bikini wax or something? Maybe that would please him. . . or maybe not. God, I don't know my own boyfriend!_

* * *

At that very moment the object of her affection was currently in his dormitory. Draco Malfoy had changed into his most expensive casual outfit, then saw fit to undo his perfectly-aligned hair, only to realign it perfectly once more. Then, with a quick spell, he shined his 300-galleon shoes, pressed the wrinkles from his shirt and pants, and added a scent of cologne to his person. Then he took one last look at himself in the mirror. _Very intimidating_, he thought approvingly. _Just what I'm going for._

With this completed, Draco left his dormitory. He strode through the Slytherin common room, past Daphne Greengrass and her friends, and out through the stone wall entrance. He took the Hogwarts halls at a quick stride, looking neither left nor right until he reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. Two first-year Gryffindors had swung back her frame so that the portrait hole stood open. They goggled at Draco Malfoy, who swept regally past them without a word and entered the Gryffindor common room.

He immediately cringed. The room was filled with waves of scarlet, gold, and Scarlett. Only the latter looked remotely appealing. The rest crashed tumultuously against his finely-attuned Slytherin tastes. What kind of person could stand even a minute in this blaring, roaring common room, let alone an entire two hours? _I swear, if this meeting is any longer than that, I'm outta here. Scarlett only said I had to go; she didn't say I had to stay_.

Draco looked desperately for a familiar face amidst the throng of overexcited males, all of whom were waving around copies of their newsletter. He saw Blaise a moment later, just as Colin lifted his wand into the air and let out a couple of loud red firecrackers to restore order.

"Well, here we are for our second meeting of the unofficial Scarlett fan club," Colin said happily. "Let's celebrate the release of Scarlett's second issue. Come on, tell me it was awesome!"

"AWESOME!" screamed the titillated crowd.

"I can't hear you!" Colin screamed back.

"AWESOME!"

"I CAN'T HEAR YOU!!"

"**AWESOME!!!**"

Draco winced at the unwatchably unintelligent spectacle and stopped beside Blaise. "I can't believe you came to this," he muttered. "What happened to 'I wouldn't be caught dead with a bunch of Gryffindors'?"

Blaise gave a noncommittal shrug of his shoulders. "I don't know what made me do it," he answered mildly. "But, as you can see, I am alive and well. You have most certainly not caught me dead with this bunch."

Draco raised his fine eyebrows a mile high. "Talk about stretching the truth," he said, sardonic. "What are we supposed to do at this miserable place?"

"I'm still trying to figure that out," Blaise said. "Boot was saying something about admiring Scarlett's pictures and writing poems and drawing pictures of her."

"Good God, are we in preschool?" Draco said, horrified. "What kind of self-respecting teenager draw _pictures_ for something like this?"

Blaise pointed up to a large banner that overhung the proceedings. "Well, Dean drew a montage of images that depict Scarlett copulating a wide variety of people at this school. See, he drew himself and Scarlett the biggest in the middle, but he also included her with people like Harry, you, Dumbledore, and Professor Vector."

"Why Professor Vector?" Draco asked, making a face. "That's the craziest thing I ever heard."

"Exactly what I was thinking," Blaise agreed.

* * *

Pansy, meanwhile, had pulled out her makeup kit and wand. She touched up every spot on her body, including the rash on her breast, so that now she stood absolutely unblemished in front of the full bathroom mirror. She had even used a spell to give her breasts a lift and another to give her pubic hair a chocolate scent. If there was one thing she knew about Draco, it was that he was a sucker for chocolate.

She lifted up her green thong and also gave it the chocolate spell. Then she slipped it on, where it covered nothing. She pulled on her gray silk robe with trembling hands. It buttoned once at the waist, then fell against her body, clinging to every curve. Pansy waved her wand once more, and the robe suctioned itself against her like a second skin. The neckline jutted past her breasts, only a mere centimeter from the nipples, and down to the button just above her thong. She might as well have been naked.

She eyed herself in the mirror one last time, then pulled her towel off her rack and wrapped it around herself. Then she left her dormitory.

Pansy reached the common room a minute later. Her eyes met with Daphne's, and for a moment her friend simply stared at her.

"What's with the towel?" Daphne asked at last.

"I need to talk to my boyfriend," Pansy said, undoing the towel briefly for her friend's benefit. Daphne raised her eyebrows, and Pansy covered herself again.

"It's too late to talk to him now," Daphne informed her friend. "He left half-an-hour ago. I suspect he's gone to the Scarlett fan club meeting."

"Dammit," Pansy muttered aloud, though inside her heart plummeted miserably. So Draco _had_ gone to the meeting. Why did he do this to her? She was the perfect girlfriend for him—she gave him everything he wanted! Why couldn't he give her what _she_ wanted?

"So what are you going to do?" Daphne said.

Pansy shrugged. "Wait in his room until he comes back, I guess," she said. She trudged off towards the boy's dormitories, sighing sadly to herself.

She reached Malfoy's room a moment later and bumped smack-dab into Theodore Nott as he rushed out, his shoes on the wrong feet and his Scarlett newsletter clutched in his hand. He gave a startled yell and stared at Pansy. "Whoa, what are you doing, wandering around in a towel?" he asked with a smirk.

"Shut up, Tad," Pansy snarled, now wishing that she had thought of wearing a bathrobe or something else less conspicuous.

"And why are you trying to get into our dormitory?"

"I said SHUT UP!" Pansy repeated menacingly. So Theodore dropped the conversation, but still muttered under his breath as he went in the opposite direction. When he was out of view, she slipped into his dormitory. Closing the door behind her, she leapt onto Malfoy's bed and drew the curtains, then waited. The only thing she had to pass the time was Malfoy's copy of _The Scarlett Letter_, which he had inadvertently left behind.

* * *

"I wonder what Brown and Patil are doing here?" Blaise remarked to Draco.

"Lavender and. . . and. . .?"

"Parvati," Blaise prompted him.

"No idea," Draco said. "I'll bet they're having more fun that I am. It looks like they're. . . taking notes or something."

"I'll bet they're observing the meeting," Blaise guessed. "Patil's sister Padma told me that those two are obsessed with boys and gossip. I guess this is the perfect place for them."

"So they _are_ having more fun than I am," Draco said dully. "All we've been doing is sitting here listening to inane poems and redundant discussions about Scarlett."

"I dunno, I've been enjoying myself," Blaise said. "I might try my hand out at a poem, or maybe a drawing."

Draco groaned and put his head in his hands. "What happened to Slytherin pride?" he bemoaned.

"It's as Vincent so eloquently put it," Blaise said. "Fuck Slytherin pride." And he went off to join Dean in a drawing.

Draco watched his retreating friend with a huge, prolonged sigh. He glanced over at Parvati and Lavender and the small group of Gryffindor girls that sat around them. Then he pulled out a piece of parchment and a pen.

Thirty minutes later Draco held a poem in his hand. He read it once, then reread it. He let out a sigh.

"Ah, Malfoy, have you written a poem?" Colin said excitedly. "That's wonderful! Can you read it to us?"

"_Will_ I?" Draco corrected him stiffly. "No chance in hell."

"Aw, come on," Colin wheedled. "Be a good sport. We all want to hear it."

But he wasn't entirely correct, for at that moment Seamus appeared behind him and said loudly, "What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Half the room stopped talking and turned to look at the pair of them.

"What does it look like?" Draco replied, even more stiffly. "I'm obviously here for the meeting."

"And what if we don't want you here?" Seamus said rudely. "You hate us, and we hate you. So there's no reason why you should spend another moment with us."

"Oh?" Draco said loftily. "And if I don't want to leave?" The other half of the room had also stopped talking by now.

"Then we'll force you!" Seamus retorted loudly.

Draco sighed, longsuffering. "Ah, but it so happens that I was about to share my _wonderful_ poem with this fan club. Certainly you won't stop me from doing that?"

"Watch me!" Seamus challenged him.

"But that's no fair!" cried a seventh-year Slytherin. "You only want him out because he's Slytherin!"

"That's not true!" Seamus defended himself. "He's a stinking Malfoy, that's why!"

"Why don't you just kick our entire house out, if you don't want us?" the Slytherin continued, much aflamed.

"Maybe we should!" Seamus snarled.

Immediately half the Slytherins began yelling in outrage, while the Gryffindors began shouting back. A few of the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws threw in their protests for good measure, and the room was in an uproar.

Colin stood on top of large oaken table in the middle of the room and let out another series of scarlet firecrackers from his wand before the crowd gradually fell silent again. "Come on, guys," he said, placating, "I want _everyone _in this school to enjoy Scarlett. The Slytherins included. We all may not have gotten along in the past, but now we're all joined by a common bond: a sexy porn star called Scarlett. So let's enjoy this moment. What do you think, Terry and Dean?"

"I'm fine with it, Colin," Dean insisted.

"The more, the merrier!" Terry said brightly.

"Sorry, Seamus, you'll have to deal with it," Colin said. "But it'll be just fine—you'll see."

Seamus muttered something like, "I bet I won't." But he crossed his arms and didn't say another word.

Colin grinned shakily. "Glad we straightened that out. You can read your poem now, Malfoy. Only I promised Euan he could go first. You can perform after he does."

"Thank you very much, Creevey," Malfoy said suavely. He stood behind the oaken table while Colin stepped away to make room for Euan Abercrombie.

"Er," said Euan. "This is a poem called "I Love Her." It's, um, sort of free verse." He cleared his throat nervously and began:

"Scarlett

Is great and very nice.

She has a great body and

Good hair. Wow, she's fine.

Yep, absolutely gorgeous.

Yes indeed. I'll

Eat her up and

Enjoy it.

I think I love

Her. No, I

_Know_ I love her."

Draco winced at every single line. That wasn't poetry, free verse or otherwise! It was horny gibberish. And it probably took the poor drip and hour to write it.

"Your turn, Malfoy," Colin whispered once Euan stepped off the table to mediocre applause.

_I don't know how I got myself into this,_ Draco thought to himself. _Oh well. At least I'll do better than Euan._ He ascended the oak table and stood nervously with his paper in hand.

He took a deep breath, then, glancing over at the group of Gryffindor girls, began his poem.

"I don't know if I know her,

And I know that she doesn't know me.

I hope that her heart I can stir,

Yet I know that it's hopeless. You see:

I see her a god among girls,

And a being to whom I'll stay true;

Yet she says I'm churl among churls.

Oh, I wish there's something I could do."

The whole room was silent, as if sure that there was more to go. Draco gulped and looked down at his piece of paper. _Why, oh why did I read this out loud?_ He asked himself. _Was it just to show Seamus I could get my own way? It's officially the stupidest decision I've ever made_. He sighed and balled up the paper, then threw it to the ground. He stood up on the table for only a moment longer. Then, after one last glance at the Gryffindor girls, he leapt down and strode from the silent common room.

* * *

Parvati and Lavender stared at Draco's retreating back, their eyes wide. "You wrote it all down, didn't you?" Lavender whispered to her best friend.

"Yeah," Parvati whispered back. She wasn't the only one speaking; a whole host of whispers joined her own as the males and females all wondered over Draco's strange opus. "That was so out-of-character for Draco."

"It was," Lavender agreed, barely able to say anything else.

"Of course," Parvati added, "the part where he kept ogling every single one of us girls was most definitely _not _out-of-character. Ew, I get a creepy feeling every time his eyes are on me! Yuck."

----------

Pansy jumped when Draco pushed open his dormitory door. She quickly threw her towel and the Scarlett magazine aside and lay on the bed, perfectly still.

Draco entered, his silver-blond hair illuminated in the moonlight. "Is someone in there?" he said softly. He flicked on his bedside lamp, then pulled aside the curtains.

He saw Pansy lying on his bed in a revealing, gray silk robe and jumped backwards in shock. "Oh, it's you," he said once he regained his breath.

"Yes, it is me," Pansy whispered, lacing her voice with honey-sweet seduction. "Come here, Draco."

He didn't move from his position, but simply said, "Why?"

"Because I need you," Pansy replied even quieter than before. "I _need_ you, Draco. I love you. . ." She let the words hang in the air, unsure if he would believe her.

Draco's breath quickened as he moved closer to his girlfriend. She leaned forward until his fingers were an inch from her breasts. A deep sorrow filled his gaze as he reached out and touched the neckline of her silk robe. He ran his finger along its edge until he reached the button at the waist. He paused for a moment, but she unbuttoned the robe for him, and it whispered from her body and was lost in the darkness.

For an eternal moment Draco stared at her smooth, firm breasts and soft, gently-defined stomach. Then he reached down and slowly pulled away Pansy's green thong. It, too, slipped to the floor and was lost from sight. She stood up slowly, her entire body bare and exposed before him.

He let one hand float hesitantly towards her. It landed gently on her breast, which he slowly massaged beneath his fingers. She felt his delicate fingertips run over her nipple, then slide carefully down her stomach, then to her waist. . .

He drew his hand away suddenly, and she was amazed to see a tear wending its way down his cheek. "Put your clothes back on," he said softly, his voice a cracked whisper.

She hadn't heard him correctly—that could be the only explanation. "What?" she said in a small, vulnerable voice.

"Put you clothes back on," he repeated, this time more firmly. He sank into his bed and turned his face away from her.

"But. . . Draco, don't you _want _me?"

Draco turned to face her again, his eyes swimming with tears. "You're perfect, Pansy," he said softly. "You really are. But. . ." he turned away again, and she knew he was crying.

"There's someone else, isn't there?" Pansy said, tears filling her own eyes.

Draco nodded slowly.

"Who is it?" Pansy asked miserably, wiping her tears as they streamed down her cheeks.

Draco didn't answer at first, then whispered, "I don't know if I know her, and I know that she doesn't know me. . ."

"What?" Pansy sniffled, unable to stem the flow of her tears.

"I'm sorry, Pansy," Draco said. "But I can't be with you, not since I'm about to break up with you as it is."

"You want to end this?" Pansy cried. Her weeping had turned her cheeks raw. "We've been together for two years, and you want to forget it all?"

"Yes," Draco said. "Once again, I'm sorry."

Pansy was sobbing. She reached down and picked up her thong and silver robe. And, as she stood up, her elbow brushed against a puce sock that lay balled at the edge of Draco's bed.

It happened immediately. Pansy bent double and heaved up her dinner. Roast chicken, green beans, treacle, and gastric juices burned their way up her throat and rocketed forth from her mouth and all across her clothes. She gasped and stood up. She was naked and splattered from the neck down in her own vomit.

She bent over again and threw up all over Draco's bed. He jumped in shock and stared at her. "Hot damn, it can't be that upsetting?" he cried. He watched in stunned shock as she vomited down her front. Then he saw Vincent's puce sock, and his eyes widened in understanding. "Oh, it was Crabbe's. I can set you right."

"FUCK YOU, MALFOY!!" Pansy screamed through a mouthful of vomit. Chunks spewed over her tongue and across Malfoy's forest green comforter. She lunged across his bed and grabbed her towel. The last thing she saw before she ran, bawling and vomiting, from the room was Malfoy's copy of _The Scarlett Letter_.

"FUCK SCARLETT!" she screamed around another wave of throw-up. "FUCKING, BLEEDING, CUNTING WHORE!"

She wrapped her towel around her naked body and ran from the boy's dormitory, holding her sodden clothes in one hand while her other hand secured the towel. She ran into the common room, wailing and spewing.

Daphne jumped up in shock at the sight of her friend. "Good gosh, Pansy!" she cried. "It didn't go that badly, did it? What did he do to you? _Finite Incantatum_."

Pansy stopped vomiting and immediately began yelling, her mouth spewing the projectiles of remaining vomit. "WE NEED A GIRL'S MEETING IN THE ROOM OF REQUIREMENT RIGHT AWAY! GET EVERYONE YOU CAN! WE'RE GOING TO GET BACK AT SCARLETT IF IT'S THE LAST THING WE DO!!"

----------

Sent to Lucius Malfoy by eagle owl:

_Damn, Father,_

_Calm down for just a moment, will you? I wanted my hand of glory, and since you were being such an ass, I had to impose myself upon my dearest mother to get her to send it up. You are the one without a brain in this case. And as for what I'm going to do with it? None of you business! But I'm mostly definitely NOT going to make kinky sex pose photos with it!! Shit, you're an absolute pervert._

_Draco_

* * *

Scarlett, also, received a whole host of letters, most praising her new newsletter:

_Dear Scarlett,_

_I'm most sorry for my recent behavior. I went to your fan club meeting today and even wrote a poem while I was there. Oh, and I've finally gotten my hand of glory. So I took some kinky sex pose photos for you. They're enclosed in this letter. Great newsletter, by the way._

_All my love,_

_Draco  
_

* * *

_My loveliest Scarlett,_

_I couldn't speak for a full hour after I got your newsletter today. You left me breathless as always, and I could only stare at your unsurpassed beauty. No girl could ever measure up to you—ever._

_Some great things are happening here at Hogwarts right now. Draco let us go to the fan club today, and he even went himself and wrote a poem. . . which was strange, because I never thought of him as a poet before. Oh, and I also managed to give him a punch like you asked me, though I had to run away from him for the rest of the day. But it was worth it._

_The Gryffindors aren't a bad bunch. I made friends with Dean Thomas, and he showed me how to draw you. So I drew a picture of us together, which I've enclosed in this letter. I spent three hours on it. Vincent also entered the spirit of things. He and Cormick McClaggan spent nearly the whole meeting talking about your pictures. As for Hermione, I've never been mean to her in my entire life. Of course, Malfoy calls her Mudblood and all that ('cause he's a Malfoy), but she punched him in the nose (which was really, really funny). So it's all good now. . . in a sense. At least, it's even._

_As for the date at Hogsmeade, bring it on! I'll be there with bells on._

_With the greatest of love,_

_Gregory  
_

* * *

_Lovely Scarlett,_

_Should I start signing my letters as Moaning Myrtle? I think I will, if it makes you happy. I was bowled over by your astounding newsletter today. I hope to see many more like it! In the meantime, I'll reread the first two and go to a quiet corner to wank off. As for a nickname for you, what about Open Rose? I like the idea of you being wide open. And the rose part. . . I dunno, it just sounded cool. Thanks for being so beautiful._

_With all my love,_

_Moaning Myrtle (a.k.a. Zacharias)  
_

* * *

_Hey, Scarlett,_

_Okay, just one complaint about your new newsletter: WAY too much clothing! This stuff isn't even soft core—take it off, take it off! Otherwise, it was awesome. Keep up the good work!_

_Lotsa Love,_

_Terry Boot, Co-Assistant Leader of the Unofficial Scarlett Fan Club  
_

* * *

_Dear Scarlett,_

_I must say, I am favorably impressed with your newsletter. I confess that I spent a good deal of class reading it under my desk—and I'm the teacher! Not even my last girlfriend was as beautiful as you are. You needn't answer this letter; I just wanted to tell you how much I'm enjoying your work._

_Sincerely,_

_Verity Vector _

----------

By 9:00 that Friday night just about every girl from every year from every house had made their way into the Room of Requirement, which had turned itself in a spacious meeting hall with great acoustics and a myriad of plush beanbag couches.

Pansy still wore her bathroom towel (she hadn't even taken the time to head back up to her dormitory, so mad was she). She had dropped her vomit-soaked clothing at the entrance of her common room, and on the way to the Room of Requirement she had allowed Daphne to cast some spells to clean her up from the incident in Draco's room. Now she stood irate on the stage in the midst of the crowd, holding a large purple megaphone not unlike the one McGonagall was fond of using.

"Scarlett's trying to take away our boys from us!" she yelled to the throng before her.

"She most certainly is!" Lavender called out, her voice carrying over the others around her. "Seamus hasn't paid me one jot of attention since that infernal newsletter this morning!"

"We aren't going to take this lying down, girls!" Pansy shrieked. "WE AREN'T, ARE WE?"

"NOOOOO!!!" The girls screamed.

"Can I hear a FUCK, NO!?!"

"FUCK, NOOOOOO!!!"

"Can I hear SCARLETT'S AN INSANE BITCH THAT'S TRYING TO STEAL ALL OUR BOYFRIENDS!?!?!"

"SCARLETT'S AN INSANE BITCH!!!"

"Good enough!" Pansy said, then let out her breath in a huff, suddenly feeling exhausted. All that yelling was doing her in. "We need a conspiracy against this puffed-up porn star. She's trying to steal our boys, so guess what: we're going to steal them back! Who's with me?"

The girls let out a deafening cheer and jumped up from their beanbag chairs to pump their fists in the air. Their yells echoed from one corner of the room to the next, then up to the rafters that hovered fifty feet above them. For a full minute Pansy let them vent their pent-up frustration against the promiscuous scarlet woman that had captured the attentions of all the boys in the school.

After a long while, Pansy finally waved her hand for silence, and the room calmed down. "Okay, we've done enough yelling," she said. "Now it's time to talk it out like proper ladies. First things first: we need a leader of this rabble—or leaders, as the case may be."

"I'll be a leader!" cried an overexcited Romilda Vane.

Pansy acknowledged the fourth-year Gryffindor's volunteering statement. "Any objections?"

"But I want to be a leader!" Parvati called out. "And so does Lavender!"

Daphne hastily ascended to her best friend's side. "Remember, we can have more than one leader. Lavender, Parvati, and Romilda, come up here." The three Gryffindor girls did as they were told, and Daphne surveyed them all. "Anyone else want to head this little conspiracy?"

The girls were silent for a few moments before Cho spoke for them all, "We're fine with it. We're just anxious to get on to the actual conspiring."

"Right, then," Daphne said. "Us five on the stage will be the leaders of The Conspiracy. Together we'll

outdo anything Scarlett tries to pitch at the boys!"

Hermione raised her hand hesitantly, and Daphne motioned for her to speak. "Um, I don't know if I can really take part in this," she said. "I mean no offense to anyone here, but Scarlett's my friend, and I'd feel like I'm betraying her by being here. I think I'd better take a neutral stance in this war."

"That makes sense," Daphne said fairly. "If anyone else wishes not to take an active role in this, we are not forcing you to stay."

For a moment Hermione was the only one who headed towards the door. Then Ginny stood up and followed her, muttering, "I can't leave her all on her lonesome." But, on the way out, she whispered to Luna, "Make sure to tell us everything that happens." The blond Ravenclaw nodded silently.

Everyone else remained still and expectant.

"So we'll be making our own magazine," Lavender said, glancing at the other leaders for affirmation.

"Yes," Pansy said firmly. "The boys are going to fall for us like they'd never do for Scarlett. They _know_ us. Who wouldn't rather see sexy pictures of someone they know over a total stranger?

"Good point," Katie Bell called out from the audience. "But we can't make a newsletter without pictures. Where are we going to do our photo shoot?"

"Hmm," Pansy said. "Good question. What do you think, girls? Do you have an idea, Parvati, Lavender? Romilda? Daphne? . . . Anyone?"

"Obviously somewhere where the teachers can't find us," Lavender said. "It'd be a nightmare if they walked in on us." She shuddered at the thought.

"The Astronomy Tower?" Eloise Midgen hazarded from her lemon-yellow beanbag couch.

"That's a favorite patrol area," Lavender said dismissively. "I think the teachers actually enjoy walking in on snogging couples in that place.

"But I've gotten away with it before," Eloise persisted. "Me and my, um, date were on the ground behind the statue of Gregoras the Dying at the top of the stairs, and Dumbledore walked right past us without noticing."

"Good point," Luna piped up mildly.

"Except that we can't conduct an entire photo shoot behind the statue of Gregoras the Dying," Pansy pointed out.

The girls sighed and fell into a pensive silence.

"The Quidditch pitch?" Katie Bell suggested.

"Great," Daphne said sarcastically. "We can freeze our asses off in the middle of snowstorm that way. The perfect photo shoot."

"The Kitchens," Orla Quirke, a second-year Ravenclaw offered.

"Not even the house-elves are that accommodating," Daphne said dryly.

"Any of the House common rooms?" Pansy said. "No, we want our newsletter to be a surprise for the boys, and they'd definitely get in our way if we did the shoot there."

"The Great Hall."

"How in Merlin's name would we get away with that?"

"The Owlery."

"Yuck."

"The Greenhouses."

"The Dungeons."

"The Forbidden Forest."

"No chance in hell, no chance in hell, and no chance in hell."

None of the suggestions seemed to work, and there were many. Just where could a couple hundred girls conduct a photo shoot in their school? A castle as big as Hogwarts should hold _some_ place capable of housing these girls without being too risky, dangerous, or unaccommodating.

But where exactly was that place?

"I know!" Parvati cried out suddenly, her face lighting up. All the girls turned to look at her and saw that she was pointing at something—a spot on the far wall of their meeting hall. In it stood a small oaken door that had most certainly not been there when they had entered.

"That's our photo shoot," Parvati said assuredly. "That's where we're working."

* * *

At that very moment Professor McGonagall sat on Dumbledore's desk in his office, heaving a sigh.

"You were just about to tell me something," Dumbledore prompted her as he took a seat.

"You have heard of this. . . _Scarlett_ business, haven't you?" McGonagall said Scarlett's name as she was forming the word around a mouthful of knarls.

Dumbledore nodded once. "I have indeed heard about our infamous Scarlett. Quite a character."

"It's not in the least bit amusing, Albus," McGonagall said severely. "She's a menace to the entire student body."

Albus spread his hands wide in a shrug. "I don't see how, Minerva."

"She's turned them all into—sex-craving maniacs!" McGonagall cried. "It's very embarrassing to watch. I'm. . . ashamed to be their teacher, even!"

"Tainted by association?" Dumbledore said mildly.

"Exactly!" McGonagall agreed. "We must do something about this!"

"Like what?" Dumbledore said. She could swear his eyes were twinkling.

"Like. . . like. . . ban the newsletter or something!" McGonagall suggested. "Get it far away from this school."

"Ah, ban _The Scarlett Letter_," Dumbledore said, the twinkle growing in his blue eyes. "I do believe that would have much the same effect as when Dolores banned _The Quibbler_."

McGonagall looked immediately contrite that she had suggested anything remotely reminiscent of Ex-Professor Umbridge. "Okay, maybe that wouldn't work entirely. But we must do _something_!"

"Perhaps we could bring up the topic at our staff meeting on Monday," Dumbledore suggested.

"Perhaps we'd best," McGonagall said, her expression darkening. "Oh, Albus, I swear something awful is going to come out of this."

Dumbledore simply put his steepled fingers together and smiled benignly. "I'm afraid I can't agree with you," he said. "Something good always comes out of. . . 'disasters' like this."

His twinkling smile widened, and McGonagall rolled her eyes.

* * *

Luna was the first to move towards the door. She glided gently through the gathering of girls and rested her hand upon the doorknob. She turned it, and the door swung open to reveal an absolute heaven.

The girls followed after her in awed silence into a room even more gigantic than their meeting hall. A maze of sets filled the place, and oh. . .! No photo set had ever looked so beautifully realistic! A gigantic pussy willow cast its shade across a sparkling river that wounds it way down to a real one-hundred-foot waterfall. Another set revealed a lily-filled pool of shimmering water bathed in a spotlight from above that truly looked like the sun. Parvati ran forward through a curtain of beads to find a large, bawdily-decorated bedroom that would not have been out of place in a whorehouse. Pansy found a tiny alcove that looked suspiciously like her favorite snogging spot in the library. Demelza Robins discovered the most opulent broom closet any of them (even the rich Purebloods) had ever seen. Eloise Midgen found a life-size replica of the top of the Astronomy Tower, complete with real stone. Katie Bell ran across a scene that looked exactly liked the Quidditch locker rooms. Luna found a woodland set filled with lifelike animals, both magical and nonmagical, that moved in impossibly realistic ways. This was, of course, just a few sets out of the many.

"We have everything here we could possibly want!" Pansy cried happily. "I'll bet we could take a thousand

photographs, and none of them would look remotely the same."

"And look at this collection of costumes!" Daphne cried in delight as she stuck her head of out a closet bigger than her dormitory that was filled entirely with clothes. "We can dress in anything we like; each outfit comes in every size imaginable!"

"And we even have our own dressing rooms!" a third-year Hufflepuff cried excitedly.

"Take a look at this gigantic makeup room!"

"And these mirrors! There must be a hundred of them!"

"And these cameras! Wow, I never knew there were so many kinds!"

"This is wicked awesome!"

The girls had never been so happy before. They each decided that the Room of Requirement was Hogwart's best room, for today it had given them true magic.

"Okay, everyone," Romilda called out, "we need to start organizing ourselves. We need makeup artists, set workers, photographers, set directors, and, most importantly, models. And that's just for the photo shoot. Afterwards we'll need writers and artists and editors and a publisher to set up our magazine."

"If we can set up the magazine by noon on Sunday I can get my dad to run up a couple hundred copies," Luna offered. "Then we could release it on Monday."

"Excellent!" Daphne said happily, giving Luna a friendly nod. "How about Romilda and I start giving everyone their assignments? Pansy, Parvati, Lavender—you guys start conducting the photo shoots."

"Will do," Pansy said.

Of course, as no one yet had their tasks, all Pansy could do at first was stand around talking to Parvati and Lavender. As Daphne and Romilda began signing up eager models, Parvati broke the silence.

"So, Pansy, now that we're working together, I have a request to make."

Pansy nodded cautiously. "Name it," she said.

"You know Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle quite well, don't you?"

Pansy's face darkened at the sound of her ex-boyfriend's name. "Rather well," she said. "Better than I'd hope."

"Oh good," Parvati said. "See, because we've been having trouble with them."

" 'We've' being me, Parvati, and most of the Gryffindor girls," Lavender put in.

"Yes," Parvati agreed. "Anyway, those three have a real problem keeping their eyes to themselves. I swear, if Malfoy looks at us one more time. . .! I don't know what I'll do."

"Malfoy is nowhere near as bad as Goyle," Lavender argued. "He just sits and stares, as if he's plastering his eyeballs to the chest of each and every girl in the room. It's. . . eurgh. It's just eurgh."

"Yes, they do seem to have that problem," Pansy commented lightly. "Though I haven't really noticed it much in Draco."

"He's the worst of the whole lot, though!" Parvati exclaimed. She shuddered a little too affectedly.

"I don't know," Pansy disagreed ambiguously. "But what do you want me to do about it?"

"Call them off!" Parvati pleaded. "Maybe you could speak to Malfoy about it."

Pansy's expression suddenly turned cold. "No, I can't speak to Draco," she said simply and frostily.

"But why not?" Lavender asked. "He's your boyfriend."

"Not anymore," Pansy answered, unable to fully keep the hurt from her voice. "We broke up not even an hour ago."

Parvati and Lavender immediately assumed sympathetic expressions. "Oh, Pansy, we're so sorry," Parvati said for both of them, giving the Slytherin girl an awkward hug. "If you need anyone to talk to about it, we're right here."

Pansy disengaged the hug after a few seconds. "Hint taken," she said, rearranging her face into a more cheerful expression. "Come on, it looks like we have some models waiting for a set. Let's take care of this shoot."

* * *

The photo shoot lasted well into the night. The girls had the time of their lives as they dressed up in revealing outfits and posed promiscuously for the camera. By 1:30 in the morning they had a vast collection of photos and a great deal of film to develop. Cho Chang and Marietta Edgecomb headed off to a darkroom that magically appeared in the back of their studio to take care of the photos. Meanwhile, the rest of the girls got ready to say goodnight.

"Be really careful, now," Pansy advised the crowd after they had finished their goodbye hugs. "It's four-and-a-half hours past curfew, and Filch is sure to be prowling the halls.

"Does he ever sleep, that one?" Katie asked curiously.

"If he does, Mrs. Norris certainly doesn't," Parvati commented. "So be careful. And we'll have to go against our nature and abandon the impulse to travel in large herds."

So they left the Room of Requirement in groups of two and three. As the five leaders of The Conspiracy

watched their members leave, they exchanged yawns.

"I'm fagged out," Parvati remarked as she blinked her eyes. When her four friends stared at her, she said irritably, "Get your minds out of the gutter. Not everything's about sex."

Daphne suddenly grinned. "Speaking of sex," she said, "I have a great idea."

"I'm scared already," Lavender said immediately.

"No, it's a really good one," Daphne promised. "It's about Scarlett."

"What about her?" Pansy asked.

"We can start a bad rumor about her," Daphne said. "One that would make the boys avoid her at all costs.

Lavender brightened. "I've got the perfect idea!" she said. "It'll keep the boys _miles _from her!" And she pulled her four Conspirators towards her and whispered the secret plan. . .

* * *

_It really is a good rumor_, Pansy reflected half-an-hour later as she made her way back to her dormitory. _I would never have thought of it myself. Then again, I'm not Muggle-born. I guess there really are disadvantages to being Pureblood after all. Who'd have known?_

At that moment she was jerked rudely from her thoughts as a tall, gray suit of armor at the top of a staircase snagged her by the towel with his sword. The fabric ripped clean in half, and the towel fell to the ground, leaving her naked.

Pansy stifled a moan of annoyance as the suit of armor creaked out a peal of laughter. "Shut it, you fucker!" she hissed at it as she groped in the darkness for her ruined towel. She found the two separate pieces at last and stood up.

"Tell me, Miss Parkinson: is there any explanation at all for this behavior?" The disembodied voice came from the staircase and so startled Pansy that she dropped her towel again. A moment later Severus Snape appeared, his face directly in her breasts.

Pansy took a step backward, feeling her neck burn. Immediately she dipped to the ground and began feeling around for her towel. She found the first piece at Snape's feet. The second half, sadly, seemed to have disappeared.

She hastily pulled herself up again and tried to wrap herself in the pitiful scrap of cloth. It took her a few moments to realize that she could either make herself an impromptu bra or some impromptu panties. She opted for the latter, and held the towel against her privates with her left hand while she covered her breasts with her right arm. Snape watched the entire time, half-amused and half-scornful. Pansy wanted to Apparate away on the spot.

"I am very displeased, Miss Parkinson," Snape said severely. "You have shamed Slytherin house with these antics."

"Erm," squeaked Pansy. Her towel began slipping, but she was so petrified that she couldn't even move to adjust it.

"Do you have any idea how serious this is?" Snape snapped.

"Um, sorry?" Pansy managed to peep.

"I'm giving you a warning this time," Snape said with displeasure. "Next time it's detention."

"Yes, sir," Pansy managed. And Snape swept past her.

Then he turned around. "Oh, and Miss Parkinson?"

Pansy turned around so that he wouldn't be staring at her bum. "Yes, Professor?"

"If you're going to go out at night to. . . _see_ other people, can't you at least last until the morning?"

"It's not like that, Prof—"

"Goodnight, Miss Parkinson." And he left.

Pansy couldn't help it—she started snuffling as she made her way down to the Slytherin common room. By the time she reached her dormitory, she threw herself on her bed without even putting on her pajamas and bawled into her pillow. Then she turned over and fell instantly asleep.

----------

Saturday morning letters:

_Dear Moaning Myrtle,_

_Open Rose. . . what a lovely nickname! I'd love to open up to you. That date on the 18th sounds very tempting right now. I just hope it works out with my schedule. I'd love to see more of you._

_Love,_

_Scarlett  
_

* * *

_My lovely Draco,_

_I'll forgive your sins. Thank you for supporting my newsletter and writing a poem at my fan club. I guess you have your righteous side after all. But don't lose all your evil! Evil is what lets us all participate in gigantic orgies and other such illicit activities._

_Those hand of glory poses were amazing! I really liked the photo where the hand was fondling you. But my favorite was where you were clutching the hand as you pretended to orgasm. Absolutely erotic. licks my lips_

_With all my love,_

_Scarlett  
_

* * *

_Dearest Gregory,_

_Ah, Hermione did tell me the story about her punching Malfoy. It was the most hilarious thing I've ever heard. She is really quite a nice girl. Make sure to treat her courteously. Hold the door for her and protect her from the dangerous animals in Care of Magical Creatures. In fact, do the same for all girls. I want a courteous boyfriend._

_I knew you'd enjoy the Gryffindor's company. I don't see why your houses don't hang around each other more often; opposites attract, after all._

_You are by far my sweetest fan. Some dumb boy called Zacharias Smith is calling me Open Rose. When I asked him for a nickname, I was expecting something half-intelligent. I guess I was wrong. But he is a Hufflepuff, so what should have I expected? But you are the only boy right now that I consider a worthy boyfriend. Thank you for being so wonderfully sweet and kind._

_Hugs and kisses,_

_Scarlett_

_---------- _

That very morning the following conversation occurred in the nearly-empty Slytherin common room:

"Guess what?" Daphne asked Terrence Higgs, who was the biggest boy gossip she knew.

"What?"

"It's about Scarlett," Daphne said conspiratorially, leaning closer to Terrence. She paused a moment for effect.

". . . And?" Terrence prompted her after a moment.

Daphne sank back into the couch she sat on. "First of all, have you ever heard of HIV?"

Terrence slowly shook his head. "I can't say it rings a bell."

"Well," Daphne said, immediately leaning towards the armchair he sat in, "it's a very dangerous virus. Once you catch it, you have it for your whole life. And it kills you. . . _slowly_."

"Whoa," Terrence whispered. "And you're not making this up?"

Daphne held up a hand of honor. "I swear," she promised.

"How do you catch it?"

Here Daphne's smile widened. "Some babies catch it from their mums when they leave the birth canal. Other people catch it by mingling blood with infected people."

Terrence listened wide-eyed, drinking in every word.

"But perhaps the most common way to catch the disease," Daphne said, once again pausing for effect, "is _having sex _with someone who has the disease." Terrence let out a small gasp at this revelation.

"But what does this have to do with Scarlett?" Terrence asked. "This disease sounds like something Muggles deal with. And Scarlett's a witch."

"Very true," Daphne said, leaning even closer. She dropped her voice to just above a whisper. "But here's the thing: recently in the Muggle porn industry, there was an HIV scare. Some of the porn stars caught the virus, and the industry had to be shut down for a few weeks while the actors and actresses all tested for HIV. Some had it, some didn't."

Terrence was fully hooked. "And you think Scarlett has. . . you know, HIV?"

Daphne paused pensively. "There is the chance," she said reasonably. And she stood up and left for breakfast, leaving Terrence deep in thought.

* * *

The following conversation took place in the library at around 10:00 that morning:

"You reading _The Scarlett Letter_, Draco?"

"Yeah, Terrence," Draco replied, frowning at the pictures. "Someone seems to have sprinkled water on this thing."

Blaise leaned over from his spot by the window. "Those look like teardrops. Were you crying while you read it?"

"Hell, no!" Draco exclaimed. "What do you take me for?"

"Just trying to be reasonable," said Blaise reasonably. "Normally when someone cries, they produce teardrops, which might happen to fall on whatever they happen to be reading at the time."

"Just because you cry all the time doesn't mean we all do," Draco said acidly.

Blaise scoffed at his friend, but didn't grace him with a reply.

"Excuse me," Terrence said, "I was about to speak."

And he proceeded in repeating everything that Daphne told him. The Slytherin boys took in this new complication with wide eyes.

"So Scarlett has this. . . HIV virus?" Blaise said.

"It seems most likely," Terrence said. "And keep in mind that the virus kills you slowly. I asked around a little bit, and I found that some people live a full life with HIV while others die within ten years.

"That's gotta suck," Blaise said.

"I'll say," Terrence agreed.

From the other shelf Euan Abercrombie listened, eyes filled with horror, then ran off.

* * *

The following conversation took place at 10:30 between a group of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws on the Quidditch pitch:

"Are you sure, Euan?" Seamus said, wide-eyed and shocked.

"Yes," Euan said breathlessly. "Scarlett has a deadly virus called HIV, and you get it by having sex."

"Gosh, that's awful," Roger Davies said. "Isn't there anything she can do about it? There's gotta be a cure or something."

"There isn't," Euan insisted. "She has it for life."

"That's too bad," Dean said.

* * *

The following conversation took place at 11:30 under the beech tree by the lake:

"This HIV virus is killing Scarlett slowly?" Colin asked Seamus, horrified.

"Yes," Seamus said sadly.

"And she can't have sex at all??" Colin continued, his eyes wide.

"No, she can definitely have sex," Seamus corrected him. "But she'll pass the disease on to every one of her sexual partners."

Colin sank back against the tree, deep in thought. For a while neither of them said a word.

Then Colin surged forward again and said, "Thank God for small mercies."

"_What?_"

"With any luck, Scarlett gave Cornelius Fudge HIV when she fucked him," Colin explained. "Then he'll die, and we'll get a newer and better Minister of Magic."

* * *

The following conversation took place at 1:00 at the Hufflepuff table in the Great Hall:

"Are you serious?" Justin Finch-Fletchley asked, his eyes wide.

"Totally serious," Colin assured him, having come over from the Gryffindor table to spread the awful news. "Scarlett has the HIV virus and is at the point of death."

"Gosh, that sucks," Terry said (he, too, had left his own table to hear the gossip).

"And she can't have sex anymore," Colin continued. "Isn't that awful."

"_No sex???_" a third-year Hufflepuff whispered, horrified. "How can she survive?"

"Actually, she can still do it," Colin amended, "but she'll give the disease to anyone she shags."

Terry's brow was furrowed in concern. "There has to be something we can do," he said. "She can't die without having a few more fucks. Maybe we could help her with it."

"But then _we'd_ catch the disease!" said the third-year anxiously.

Terry paused pensively and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "There has to be some way to protect ourselves against it," he said.

"How?" This came from Justin.

"I don't know," Terry replied. "Maybe. . . a spell or something? We could ask Madam Pomfrey; I'm sure she'd know what to do."

* * *

So, at 3:00 that afternoon, a group of ten boys, including Terry, Colin, Seamus, Dean, Justin, and Gregory, all cautiously entered the pristine infirmary. They treaded softly through the beds and over to Madam Pomfrey's office, only to find her talking to McGonagall and Dumbledore. They paused, unsure of what to do.

Dumbledore was the first to notice the gaggle of guys. "Ah, young sirs, what may we do for you?"

Dean pushed Colin towards the front. After a few moments of fumbling, he mumbled, "We, um, wanted to ask Madam Pomfrey a question about. . . something."

"Yes, what is it?" Madam Pomfrey swept forward to meet the ten Hogwarts students. "What happened this time?"

No one spoke for a moment. Then Terry stepped forward. "It's not what happened, but what's _going _to happen. You see, we heard about this awful virus called, um, HIV. And. . .and we wanted to know how to. . . to protect ourselves against it."

"Abstinence," McGonagall said immediately and strictly.

"Don't participate in any rituals that require the commingling of blood," the infirmary nurse advised.

"And when you use hypodermic drug needles," said Dumbledore, "make sure that nobody else _touches_ your own."

McGonagall gave Dumbledore a look of sheer horror.

"Did that answer your question?" Madam Pomfrey asked kindly.

Colin wrung his hands together. "Um, not exactly. See, there's someone we know who already has HIV. And we heard that you can catch it by. . . _having sex_," he whispered the last word.

"Abstinence!" McGonagall crowed severely.

"But. . ." Colin whispered, "we. . . um. . ."

"Ah, you want to know about sexual protections, I presume?" Dumbledore said frankly. Every person in the room except him blushed beet red.

"Yes, Professor," Terry said softly.

"But nothing could be easier!" Dumbledore said happily. "Do you happen to have a condom, Madam Pomfrey?"

"Um. . . somewhere amongst my supplies," she answered, clearly trying to pull herself together after this sudden and surprising conversation. She was the school nurse! This stuff wasn't supposed to embarrass her! . . . Except that Dumbledore was here to hear it all.

"Thank you very much," Dumbledore said when Madam Pomfrey pulled out a pack of condoms. She was just about ready to begin her explanation when Dumbledore plucked the box out of her hands. He pulled out a single condom and held it up.

"This is called a condom," he told the boys. "And it goes on the penis." McGonagall put her head in her hands. "It's what we call 'selectively permeable.' In other words, it lets some stuff through, but holds some stuff back."

The boys looked thoroughly mortified at having this discussion with their Headmaster. Dumbledore, however, seemed quite at ease as he continued. "This condom is full of microscopic holes. The sperm is tiny enough that it gets through, but the HIV virus is so big that it gets stuck and can't get past."

"So it's 'selectively _sperm_eable,' " Terry offered.

"Boot!" McGonagall cried in mortification. "Twenty points from Ravenclaw!"

"No, Minnie, it's quite alright," Dumbledore said, placating. McGonagall glared at him.

He turned back to the boys. "Next: putting the condom on. I think we need a demonstration."

"ALBUS!" McGonagall shrieked, her face beet red and her eyes wide.

"Calm down, Minerva," Dumbledore said easily. "Not _that_ kind of demonstration." He plucked up a stiff banana from a nearby bowl of fruit. Somehow two sagging pears managed to attach themselves to the banana's base. "See, you slip the condom on like a glove," he said. And he pulled the condom on around the head of the banana.

Suddenly he plucked the condom off and thrust the banana back into the bowl of fruit. Then he blew the condom into a large balloon and tied it off, then let it float up to the ceiling. McGonagall looked close to tears, she was so embarrassed.

"But condoms aren't always reliable," Dumbledore informed them, his eyes on the "balloon" that lazed its way around the room. "They leak 20 to 40 of the time. Isn't that awful? So we wizards have created a spell."

He pulled the banana out of the bowl of fruit again and placed the wand at its head. "See, you simply touch the head and say, "_Condomus Protectivae!_ Repeat it after me."

"_Condomus Protectivae_," the boys mumbled, beet read.

"Good," Dumbledore praised them. "Now, the spell only works on actual penises, so it did nothing whatsoever to the banana. But you can tell when it works because the head of your penis will glow a bright blue for a single second."

There was a deafening silence.

"That's all," Dumbledore said brightly.

"Thank you, Professor," Colin whispered. He and his nine friends stumbled dazedly from the infirmary, none of them saying a word. They entered the hallway, closed the door behind them, then immediately burst out into excited conversation.

McGonagall didn't look up until they were gone. When she did, she stared at Dumbledore, shaking her head in horror. "Why?" she whispered. "Madam Pomfrey could have done it."

"Oh, but they needed to know," Dumbledore said lightly. "Certainly it'd be less embarrassing to learn it from another male? No? Anyway, I had so much fun explaining it. It's be a while since I've done that spell, and I wanted to keep in practice."

McGonagall looked revolted.

Madam Pomfrey simply shook her head and whispered, "Oh God, we _really_ need a sex-ed course at this school."

**A/N: **Some more disclaimers: "selectively-spermeable" belongs to some guy in my health class back in 9th grade. The sausage idea was inspired by a person who wishes to remain anonymous, though I'm sure he's not the first person to have compared a sausage to a penis. Oh, and in chapter 3 I forgot to disclaim Flitwick's line "at least once more, as always." That comes from _Pirates of the Caribbean_. I don't have to disclaim the poems, because they're all mine. :D

About masturbating socks—inside joke. Oh, and I know that the HIV scare in the porn industry took place almost ten years later than this story is set, but it was just too good to pass up.

Great news! I've enabled anonymous reviews (I don't know why I disabled it before—it must have been a default setting). So now you guys don't have an excuse for not leaving a review. Please leave one, because it keeps me going.

Next chapter: The girls release their own newsletter. So Scarlett outdoes them. . . big time. So they have to outdo Scarlett. . . big time. Harry gets another letter from Scarlett. Vector gets more story time (along with Flitwick). Zacharias and Scarlett get things mixed up. And we get some Harry/Ginny scenes at last! Oh, and my third-favorite novel (after HP and aSoUE) gets a cameo appearance!! Yay!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Be VERY glad! This chapter's the longest—16500 words without the author's notes. And, although I had an absolute blast with the entire story, this chapter was probably the most fun to write. So enjoy!

In this chapter Hermione runs into a spot of bother—a big one. And we see more of Moaning Myrtle. Two teachers are involved in some measuring. Oh, and poor McGonagall gets a repeatedly raw deal of things.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, the Warner Brothers, and other assorted people. _A Clockwork Orange_ belongs to Anthony Burgess, Kubrick, Warner Brothers, and other assorted people. Wait! Warner Brothers owns both??? Absolutely no fair!!

**Chapter Five**

**Seeing Scarlett**

Monday morning brought with it a great deal of surprises. The boys meandered into the Great Hall for breakfast only to find a clump of girls at each entrance, waving enticing magazines in their faces.

"Only a galleon a copy!" Lavender cried out happily. "A true bargain! Get yours today!"

Seamus leaned over and took one of the magazines in his hands. " '_The Conspiracy_'?" He read aloud. "What kind of name is that?"

Lavender smiled secretly. "Why don't you read it and find out?"

Seamus looked more closely at _The Conspiracy._ It featured the five leaders themselves, clothed in dresses with diving necklines and high hems. Around them were such teasers as "See What Surprises Luna Has Been Hiding!" and "What a Hogwarts Girl Wants in a Guy." The Gryffindor boy stared for a moment at the landscape of legs that stretched across the cover, then absentmindedly fished a galleon from his pocket. He placed it in Lavender's outstretched hand, and she gave him a blinding smile.

Seamus, among a large portion of the male students, took their new magazine to their tables and began reading.

Excerpts from _The Conspiracy_:

_What is _The Conspiracy, _you may ask? It is a special organization that the females of Hogwarts have made exclusively for the entertainment of the Hogwarts males. It is an in-depth look into the lives and secrets of the girls you thought you knew, but who have been hiding from you for years. Now is the chance to see what we, the girls of Hogwarts, have been hiding from you all this time. See what we like and dislike, what we find attractive and what we find hideous, what we do and what we don't do. But keep an open mind, and remember: You Think You Know, But You Have No Idea!_

_

* * *

_

10 Ways to Lose the Hogwarts Lady of Your Dreams

_Compiled by Hannah Abbot_

_10: Start ignoring her._

_9: Make her feel unimportant or less-than, especially compared to girls that are many times less valuable than she is._

_8: Send flirty letters to others girls._

_7: Flirt with girls you've never even met._

_6: Write poems about girls that aren't even your Hogwarts Lady of Your Dreams._

_5: Spend half the day talking about another girl._

_4: Spend all your time reading magazines when you should be paying attention to her._

_3: Ask Professor Dumbledore for a protective spell when you don't even plan to have sex with the Hogwarts Lady of Your Dreams._

_2: Give her a hard time because she isn't exactly like all the girls you run across in magazines and newsletters._

_1: Throw her away for a scarlet woman._

_

* * *

_

My Favorite Colors

_By Luna Lovegood_

_Gold is the color of a galleon coin_

_And beautiful tresses that shine in the sun._

_Peach is the skin on a man's hard groin,_

_Which promises hours of great, bawdy fun._

_Purple is royalty I long to be,_

_While orange is my fav'rite clockwork book_

_White is the color of pristinity,_

_And green is a Crumple-Horned Snorkack's look._

_But scarlet's a color that I can't abide,_

_A hideous hue that I'll always deride._

* * *

The photographs were quite a surprise. Each girl that wanted an appearance got one amidst the grand sets offered out by the Room of Requirement. And never had the Hogwarts girls looked so perfect, and so confident!

Luna featured in quite a few of the photographs. In one shot of her amidst a small crowd of forest animals in a clearing, she wore a long, pale green dress whose neckline jutted down nearly to her belly button. In another picture she was bending over to smell a flower, and the camera had caught a perfect view down the front of her dress, showing a lot more than any of the Hogwarts boys could have hoped to see in real life. She also joined Parvati, Lavender, Eloise, and Katie Bell in a photo in the grand waterfall, where they all wore thin white dress that were soaking wet.

Parvati and Lavender, too, had taken it upon themselves to appear in a good deal of the pictures. Lavender occupied the spacious broom closet, where she lay against its cushioned interior and pulled up her dress almost all the way up her leg. Parvati, meanwhile, took it upon herself to strip to her underwear on the set of the Astronomy Tower and straddle a replica of the statue of Gregory the Dying. And they both appeared, along with five other girls, in a Grecian bath scene where they bathed in a heavily-bubbled pool.

The photos represented a myriad of color ranges. Some pictures were filled with blues and purples and other cool colors. Others were filled with warm, vibrant yellows and oranges. Still others were in black and white, while other took charge of the entire color wheel. . . except for one color. . .

There wasn't a shade of scarlet in the entire magazine.

* * *

". . .Wow. . ." Seamus, Dean, Colin, Terry, Justin, and Blaise had all gathered at the Gryffindor table to stare at _The Conspiracy_ magazine. "I mean to say. . . _Wow_. . ."

"I never knew Luna was hiding such a hot figure." That was from Terry.

"And Eloise!" Justin whispered in awe. "Apparently pimples don't stunt the growth of her chest." He was looking at the waterfall scene.

Dean bit back a laugh. "That girl has pimples everywhere," he said. "See? There's even one of her breast; it's visible through that transparent dress of hers. It's a large one, all right!"

Colin furrowed his brow and cocked his head. "That's not a pimple," he said slowly. "It's. . ." His eyes widened in realization. Immediately the boys and crowded around the picture, all eyes on Eloise Midgen for a very long time.

* * *

From the other side of the Gryffindor table Luna was smiling serenely at all the boys who were admiring her pictures and her friends' pictures. "Isn't this so wonderful?" she asked Hermione and Ginny.

Hermione looked very disgruntled. "No, it isn't," she said. Ginny merely looked apprehensive.

"But why not?" Luna asked mildly. "Do you realize there isn't a single veilabat in this entire magazine? It's very frightening, thinking of the amount of veilabats that could have posed in our midst. If Orla had grabbed the red bikini instead of the blue one, it's guaranteed that a veilabat would have taken residence in her mind."

"But Scarlett's my friend!" Hermione said in agitation. "Her newsletter's going to plummet because of this! You were supposed to tell us what happened, Luna! We didn't expect you to pose for all those pictures, and thereby help bring about the destruction of _The Scarlett Letter_."

"But it was so much fun," Luna said placidly. "You don't know how gratifying it is to see boys finally looking at me now."

"Oh. . . ah." And Hermione no longer had the heart to reprimand her friend. "But, er, I'm still quite grateful for all the help you've given us, you know."

"I know," Luna said. She looked up and down the table until her eyes rested on Parvati, Lavender, Romilda, Pansy, and Daphne. "They seem happy, at least. I'm glad that Pansy's gotten over her breakup with Malfoy so quickly."

Hermione and Ginny perked up, and Harry raised his eyebrows. Ron let out a laugh. "Her _what_?" Hermione said.

"Her breakup with Malfoy," Luna repeated.

"Ha!" Ron didn't manage to hold back that one syllable. "Serves him right!"

"He really was being such an awful boyfriend," Luna remarked absently. "It's good that she ended it before he got any worse."

"She seems much better off for it," Harry remarked amusedly as he indicated Pansy with a wave of his hand. She and the other Conspiracy leaders were all grinning as they leaned over their magazine. From the look of it, one would think she had never known Malfoy in her life, much less had broken up with him the night before.

But then the whole scene changed in a moment as the mail arrived. When the boys saw what happened, they dropped their Conspiracy magazines and snatched up at their owls' packages. When the girls saw what happened, their grins slid off their face like stinksap. When Hermione saw what happened, she smirked in satisfaction. When Harry saw what happened, he hid a smile at the whole situation and everyone around him. The owls deposited their burdens, then flew off, leaving pandemonium behind. . .

For the third issue of _The Scarlett Letter_ had arrived.

* * *

The cover of _The Scarlett Letter _was even more revealing this time around. This time it had taken residence in a lavish bathroom, where Scarlett was sitting on the edge of a sunken tub, smiling over her shoulder at the camera. A stray red towel nestled itself into the small of her back, hiding her bottom from view. The men in the tub, however, got a full front view of Scarlett, and they each wore vacant grins as they watched Scarlett shift position every now and then. The towel miraculously kept covering her rear end the entire time. Some excerpts from this newsletter:

_I am a very busy young lady. What with five movies and interviews and countless photo shoots, I have very little free time. So I have long wish lists that I have yet to fulfill. Here are some of them:_

_To Visit List:_

_1: The Eiffel Tower—I can't believe I went to Paris and never visited the Eiffel Tower!_

_2: Singapore_

_3: Turkey_

_4: Hollywood, California_

_5: Ruins of Ancient Babylon._

_To Buy List:_

_1: Gladrag's new red thong that starts moaning if it gets too dirty_

_2: A revealing house-elf pillow case costume so I can always remember my role from my movie "La Baguette Magique Choisit la Sorcière"_

_3: A new pack of Bertie Bott's Every-Flavored Condoms_

_4: A new feather quill with which to write my poems_

_5: A new whip_

_To Try List:_

_1: Escargot_

_2: Having sex upside-down_

_3: Buffalo meat_

_4: Listening to psychedelic music_

_5: Having sex with a merman or a centaur (the former will be easier, I expect)_

_To Do List:_

_1: Harry Potter!_

_2: Aiden Lynch_

_3: Victor Krum_

_4: Orlando Bloom (most of you Muggleborns will have heard about/had a crush on him)_

_5: Another Hogwarts male who will remain anonymous (smiles seductively)_

_

* * *

Okay, it's time for some damage control. It has reached my ears that a rumor has been making its rounds in Hogwarts castle. Apparently everyone thinks I'm ravaged with AIDS. This is entirely untrue. Just last week I was tested for every STD known to mankind, including (but not limited to) syphilis, gonorrhea, chlamydia, HPV, genital herpes, and genital warts. I have none of them, and I am totally free of the HIV virus._

_I also tend to cast about a dozen protective spells on myself before I have sex with anyone. So I am totally able to have sex without spreading disease or contracting one myself. That's all._

* * *

The pictures were much the same as last time, though (if possible) even more revealing. The Hogwarts boys settled into a collective daze as they goggled at the newsletter. Meanwhile, Lavender and Parvati flipped furiously through their own copy, their faces growing redder with each page.

"Did you tell her about the HIV rumor?" Lavender rounded on Hermione furiously.

"I didn't send Scarlett a single letter the entire weekend," Hermione said defensively. "I swear."

"Are you sure?" Lavender said, narrowing her eyebrows.

"Calm down, Lav," Parvati said wearily. "Scarlett has a billion boys writing to her. Odds are one of them told her."

"Oh," Lavender said. "Sorry, Hermione." She sunk down next to Parvati as they read the "To Do" list.

"Have you seen this, Harry??" Parvati called out as she stared at the newsletter.

"Seamus showed me," Harry answered with a sigh. "Merlin, she's so annoying."

Parvati hid a smile. "Do you mean you wouldn't do her, even if she offered?"

Harry managed a tiny smile. "Nope, Parv. She's not on my To Do List."

Lavender listened with wide-open ears and Parvati leaned forward. "She isn't?" she said, raising one eyebrow. "Then who is?"

Harry avoided her gaze and studied his fingernails for moment, clearly searching for a diplomatic answer. Then he looked up at her again and said wryly, "I'm afraid that's a secret, Parvati. But it's a very short list. Probably the shortest in the whole school."

"Come on, now," Parvati said with a laugh. "It can't be shorter than Snape's list! I can't even imagine him wanting to have sex, much less actually finding someone who'd be willing to do it with him!"

Lavender looked up from the newsletter. "Are you kidding, Parv?" she said. "Snape wildly wants to fuck Narcissa Malfoy. Everyone knows that."

Parvati turned around slowly. ". . . _What_?" she said.

Lavender sighed. "Okay, so only me, Pansy, and Draco—"

" '—Pansy, Draco, and me—' " Hermione corrected her.

"—Only Pansy, Draco, and me know about it," Lavender amended. "Draco told Pansy, who told me. Hell, Draco could have been imagining it, for all we know."

Harry watched the entire conversation with a smile on his face. "So if Snape _is_ drooling after Malfoy's mom," he said, "I guess that makes his To Do List about as long as mine. Though I'm afraid our tastes are MUCH different."

"I'd hope so," Ginny said from the other side of the table.

Harry gulped and fell silent after this. Then he read his most recent bit of mail under the table:

_Dearest Harry,_

_You haven't yet answered my last letter. And I really want to send you a copy of my newsletter. Did you know that I put you at the top of my "To Do" List? I did that because you ARE at the top of my To Do List. To tell the truth, I don't really think much about the other boys on that list. I simply curious about them. But I really, really want to know what you're like. Please write back._

_Love,_

_Scarlett_

Harry rolled his eyes and crumpled up the letter, then stuffed it in his bag and forgot about it.

* * *

Goyle also received a letter from Scarlett:

_Hello, my love,_

_You will have probably received my new newsletter today. And you'll have seen the To Do List on page 14. To tell the truth, you're actually at the top of my list. I don't care about those other guys. You are the most important thing in my life. I just didn't want to draw attention to us just yet. I don't think everybody should know our personal business._

_I just wanted you to know that I am head-over-heels in love with you. I can't wait to see you at Hogsmeade. Be there with _balls_ on!_

_Love,_

_Scarlett_

* * *

Malfoy, too, received two letters, though neither were from Scarlett:

_Draco,_

_I think I absolutely hate you. You are the most embarrassing son a father can have—and that's saying a lot, especially with riff-raff like the Longbottoms and the Weasleys oozing all over the country. I am not a pervert. If anything, you are the pervert. And, if you reply to this letter (which I sincerely hope you don't), you had better not mention that incident with Dobby in your first year. That wasn't NOT me being perverted. . . never mind, you wouldn't understand._

_Your Father_

_

* * *

Dearest Draco,_

_Your Daddy is giving me so much grief right now! He was most embarrassing today at the Ministry. He spent an hour alone with Fudge inside his office, then came out covered in blood. The press thought they had murdered someone, and they made a huge scene! In the end, it turned out that Lucius got mad at a house-elf and accidentally killed it in his rage. I could have sunk through the floor, I was so embarrassed! And I'm not even going to start on the shame he's brought on us by commingling with the Death Eaters. Doesn't your Daddy have any sense of public image?_

_Feeling very pissed, but I still love you very much,_

_Your dear Mother_

* * *

Gregory gently folded Scarlett's letter and put it in its own special pocket in his school bag. Then he returned to his newsletter with a glowing smile on his face. A wonderfully warm feeling spread gloriously throughout his entire body as he thought over Scarlett's words again. . . and again. . . and again. Scarlett loved him!

And he loved her.

It was true love, he knew it.

"You don't seem too happy, Draco," Vincent remarked lightly.

Draco had just finished reading his letters, which Gregory figured were much less pleasing than his own. "I'm just fine, thank you," Draco said acidly, setting fire to one letter with his wand. The other he simply stuffed in his bag.

"That's surprising to hear," Vincent pressed. "Especially since you get constantly displeasing mail. And you just broke up with Pansy."

"God, don't you EVER shut up?!?" Draco gritted his teeth in frustration.

"No need to call me God," Vincent replied, unable to fully suppress a snort of laughter. "I like Vincent just fine, thanks."

"For your information, I'm GLAD I broke up with Pansy!" Draco retorted, ignoring Vincent's impudent remark.

"You certainly aren't acting like it," Vincent muttered.

Draco rolled his eyes. "You don't know a thing about girlfriends," he said bitingly, "seeing as you've never had one yourself."

"Yes, I have!" Vincent argued. "I have one right now!"

Draco let out a cry of laughter. "Ha! That's news to me! Who's the unlucky girl?"

"Uh. . . well, it's not exactly. . . _official_," Vincent hemmed and hawed. "Not really. But we do make out."

"Yeah, Vincent," Malfoy said sarcastically. "God, you're pathetic."

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Crabbe muttered. "It's _Vincent_."

"I'm off to class," Gregory said. He grabbed his bag and, still holding _The Scarlett Letter _in his hands, walked down the Great Hall.

Gregory had just stepped into the Entrance Hall when Pansy accosted him by the stairs. "Going to Potions already?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah," Gregory said.

"Mind if I join you?" Pansy said brightly.

"No."

"Good." Pansy linked her arm around Gregory's and pulled herself up against his shoulder. Gregory was too absorbed in Scarlett's magazine to notice.

"You seem happy," Gregory said vaguely after a moment of silence.

"I am," Pansy replied.

"But you just broke up with Draco."

Pansy shrugged. "You were right. He was treating me like shit."

"Yeah," Gregory agreed, not paying full attention. Pansy bent her body slightly forward so that Gregory got a perfect view down her robes. For a moment he was too busy looking at the magazine. Then his gaze wandered for a moment as he turned the page. . .

He stared at Pansy and gulped. She simply smiled.

_Look away_, Gregory instructed himself sternly. _I'm in love with Scarlett_.

_Ah, but I have a striking panorama of Pansy's breasts right about now, all the way down to a centimeter above the nipple._

_But I'm in love with Scarlett!_

_True._

And Gregory looked away. He turned his gaze back to the magazine and saw, much to his delight, a similar view of Scarlett where she showed every bit of skin she could without actually being naked.

Pansy wilted in disappointment. Gregory was supposed to look at her, not Scarlett! What good was an ink-and-paper photo when he had the real thing right in front of him? She drew a deep breath and took a different tack.

"How did you like our magazine?" Pansy asked Gregory.

"It was okay," he replied vaguely.

"Only okay?"

"Yeah, only okay."

"You did buy a copy, didn't you?"

"Of course."

Silence.

"But why didn't you like it?" Pansy pouted and clung even closer to his arm.

"It was okay."

"God, are you even listening??"

"You needn't call me God," Gregory said, unconsciously echoing Vincent. "Gregory will do."

"Be serious!" Pansy cried, becoming rather upset. Yet she kept a firm hold on his arm as they reached the dungeons.

"Okay," Gregory complied. "I'll be serious. I didn't really like the magazine you girls made because it felt like a rip-off of _The Scarlett Letter_. I think you guys are insanely jealous that Scarlett's so popular. So you feel that you have to outdo her."

"What? That's not true!" Pansy lied.

"Yes, it is," Gregory said, surprised at her denial. "And your magazine isn't as popular. Why else do you think Scarlett's able to get a bunch of half-naked men in her photos when you girls don't have any?"

Pansy stamped her foot in frustration. Things weren't going at all how she'd planned! This whole conversation with Gregory had had the exact opposite effect that she wanted. But, by golly, she'd end it on a good note. Maybe she could gain back at least a shred of womanly pride. So she gave Gregory a kiss on the cheek and flounced irritably off into the Potions dungeon.

Gregory touched the spot where Pansy had kissed him. For a moment he didn't move as he reviewed the feel of her soft, warm lips in his mind. Then he turned back to _The Scarlett Letter_ and continued reading.

_----------_

_Dear Scarlett,_

_Did you get my last letter? The one where I gave you the nickname Open Rose? Only I haven't gotten a reply yet. I loved today's newsletter, by the way. You are the hottest!_

_Love,_

_Moaning Myrtle (a.k.a. Zach)_

----------

Flitwick watched as Professor McGonagall trudged into the staff room that afternoon and slumped into her seat. The poor Transfiguration teacher seemed absolutely spent of all her energy.

"Rough day, Minnie?" Flitwick asked.

McGonagall's head jerked upward, and for a second she just stared at Flitwick, as if not quite sure what to say. "Rough day?" she finally said. "Oh, yeah. Very rough. And now we have a staff meeting, on top of it all."

"Life sucks," Flitwick commiserated. "What's got you so down in the dumps?"

"Our resident harlot, Scarlett," McGonagall said, letting out a longsuffering sigh. "Rrrgh, she's driving me insane!"

"Isn't she!" Flitwick agreed. "None of my boys have been paying attention to the lesson since before last week. They're too wrapped up in that newsletter."

"None of the girls pay attention, for that matter," McGonagall pointed out. "They're too busy glaring at the boys and concocting their own plans to steal them back from Scarlett."

At that moment the other teachers meandered into the room, Dumbledore taking the rear. Flitwick brightened when he spotted Verity Vector and nearly orgasmed when she took the seat next to him.

"How is everyone?" Dumbledore asked mildly.

"Good," mumbled the teachers, except for McGonagall, who just frowned sourly.

"Then let's get down to business. What's the first item on our agenda?"

"Scarlett!" McGonagall cried out. "We _need_ to put a stop to all of this!"

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows ever so slightly. "We do, Minerva?"

"Yes, we do! She's a bad influence on the students, and she's interfering with their education."

Dumbledore nodded. "This is most serious indeed. Please continue."

"The boys no longer pay attention in class anymore," she began. "They're too busy reading her newsletter. . ."

And off she went on one of her long diatribes. Flitwick soon lost interest. Not because McGonagall was boring, but more because he was too busy casting glances at Professor Vector. He had a piece of parchment and a quill with which to take notes on the meeting. Instead, he began writing a note:

_How are you, Verity?_

And he pushed it over. She took hold of it and read it. Rolling her eyes, she jotted a quick, sarcastic reply:

_Absodiddlylutely hunky-dory. Why?_

Flitwick took the note back and was just about to continue their written conversation when McGonagall paused in the middle of her diatribe to cast him a glance. He immediately stopped writing and, hoping that he didn't look too guilty, waited a moment. Then:

_I just want to know how you're doing._

_Why?_

_Just because. What do you think about Hogsmeade on the 18th?_

_I think that I won't be going._

_Would you like to go with me?_

_Gods, no._

_Be serious!_

Verity Vector didn't reply when Flitwick passed her the note. Minerva gave him another glance, so he quickly pulled the note back and waited innocently as he thought of what next to write. Finally he had an idea:

_Let's play a game._

_What kind of game?_

_I try to guess your measurements. I'll start at 36-24-36, because that's always a good starting point. You tell me whether each number is higher or lower._

_. . . What in Merlin's name, Filius? You aren't making any sense. What do you mean by "my measurements"? And what are the numbers with the dashes?_

_It's easy, Verity. The first number is your measurement around your bust. The second number is your measurement around your waist. The third is your measurement around your hips. So it goes bust-waist-hips. Got it?_

_36-24-36??? You call that normal????_

_Uh, yes._

_Good holy Merlin! Do you expect every single women in the planet to suffer from raging anorexia????_

_Um, no. . . why?_

_Holy hell, the only way I could get that skinny is if you pulled me through a straw! NOBODY could get that skinny unless they hadn't yet reached their mum's birth canal! You're crazy!_

_What? 36 inches around the bust seems normal. So does 24 around the waist and 36 around the hips. What's so anorexic about that?_

_. . . . . . . . . We're talking INCHES???_

_Inches, yes. What else?_

_Oh. I thought you were measuring in centimeters._

_. . . Oh. I guess that would make a difference. So do you want to play this game using the metric measurements or the standard measurements?_

_Look, Filius, I'm really not comfortable with sharing my measurements._

_Why? I don't care what your measurements are. You'll still look wonderful in my eyes._

_Then why are you trying to guess them?_

_For fun. Why else?_

_I really, really don't want to do this._

_Okay, then. You can guess my measurements._

_Your measurements? You mean the 36-24-36 thing again?_

_No, not those measurements. Guys aren't supposed to have hourglass figures. You're supposed to guess my OTHER measurements._

_Your OTHER measurements??_

_Yes. The first number is the length. The second number is the width. So it's length x width. Got it?_

_No. What "length" and "width" are we talking about? Which body part are we measuring??_

_Um. . . you don't know?_

_NO, DAMN IT!!! WHICH BODY PART????_

_Um. . . my. . . penis._

_FUCK!! YOU'RE DISGUSTING!!! I'M NOT PLAYING THIS GAME!_

And Vector shoved the parchment back into Flitwick's hands and gave him a sharp kick in the leg under the table. McGonagall glanced at Flitwick once again, her face twisted into a glare, and this time he couldn't keep the guilty look from his face.

"Is anything the matter, Filius?" Dumbledore asked calmly.

"Um, no," Flitwick said quickly. "What were you saying?"

"I said that there's nothing we can really do about Scarlett right now," Dumbledore replied, unable to keep the amusement from his voice. "If we try to stop the boys from reading her newsletter, they'll rebel against us, or else simply read it in secret. We can't monitor their every book. Everyone agrees, right?"

"Yes," they all mumbled, many of them heaving out sighs. McGonagall's glare deepened, and she slumped furiously against the back of her chair.

----------

Monday evening letters:

_Dear Moaning Myrtle,_

_Of course I got your letter. I even sent a reply. I do hope it didn't get lost in the post; the owl I used seemed quite fit and healthy. In the last letter I was considering a date in Hogsmeade on the 18th. I still have to check my schedule to see if it will work out. I'll write to you later in the week._

_Love,_

_Open Rose_

_P.S. Please stop adding "a.k.a. Zach" on the end of your signatures. I'm Open Rose, and you're Moaning Myrtle. Remember that!_

_

* * *

Dear Scarlett,_

_I read your To Do List in the most recent issue of _The Scarlett Letter_. I couldn't help noticing that Potter headed this list. So I felt I must warn you against him. He's stuck up and spoiled. And he likes to outdo everyone in everything. He's rotten to the core. And he hangs around with people like Granger and the Weasleys. I just felt like I needed to save you from a disappointing fuck._

_Love,_

_Draco_

_P.S. Enjoyed the newsletter._

_

* * *

Father,_

_There's this really neat thing that I heard about. It's a new kind of sex. You stick your wand up your butt and cast a cutting curse. Please try it._

_As for the pervert thing: you are too a pervert. What kind of person isn't when they do what they did to poor Dobby? I swear, after seeing that I was scarred for life._

_I KNOW I absolutely hate you._

_Draco_

_

* * *

Dearest Mother,_

_Father's being an absolute asshole. I think you should withhold sexual privileges from him until he sharpens up his act. He's been too much of an embarrassment to our family for too long. I wish there was some way I could disown him. . ._

_Maybe you could divorce Father and marry Snape. I know you want to bang our resident Potions Master. If the divorce doesn't go through, you can still do Snape while Dad's sleeping on the couch (make sure he doesn't even get the luxury of the guest rooms!)._

_With all my love,_

_Draco_

----------

Tuesday morning letters:

_Dear Open Rose,_

_Did BOTH my letters go astray? You haven't written to me in a long time. Are you angry at me? If you are, I'm sorry for whatever I did, and I hope you forgive me._

_I love you._

_Moaning Myrtle_

_

* * *

Dear Draco,_

_Harry Potter is rotten to the core?? That's not what my good friend Hermione told me. And even if he is, does it matter? I'll be happy with him, just as long as he gives me a memorable night in bed. But thanks for your concern anyway. I wonder if I could meet up with you sometime?_

_Love,_

_Scarlett_

----------

Hermione stumbled into her Arithmancy class on Tuesday morning still yawning. She had been up all night with Ginny, and now she could barely keep her eyes open. She slumped down in her desk and dropped her bag to the floor beneath her.

"Rough night?" Terry Boot asked her with a smile. He sat down in his desk in front of her.

"Yes," Hermione said. "But I still had a good time."

Terry's smile widened. "So you and Ron got it up?"

Hermione started. "What? Good gracious, no! We don't all move as fast as you, Terry."

"Tell me what it's like when it happens," Terry said. "I'll make sure to ask Ron as well."

"Keep dreaming," Hermione muttered. She pulled out her Arithmancy book and asked, "So. . . which newsletter do you enjoy more: _The Scarlett Letter _or _The Conspiracy_?"

Terry looked quite pleased with her. "I never knew you were one for gossip," he said, approving. "I'm all over Scarlett. The girls are great and all that, but they're really just jealous. And Scarlett reveals more of herself. She's one hot chick."

"She tries her best," Hermione said with a smile.

"Hell, yes," Terry agreed. He pulled out his own book. "I'd be looking at _The Scarlett Letter _right now, except I need to cram a last few minutes of studying for the test."

"Test?" Hermione echoed him in horror.

"Test," Terry repeated. "Over Units Four and Five. I'll bet you ace it."

"We have a _test_ today??" Hermione repeated, panicking. "I totally forgot! I haven't studied at all! _What in Merlin's name am I going to do???_"

"Stop complaining," Terry recommended. "You'll get an O."

"No, I won't!" Hermione cried. "Oh no, oh no!"

At that moment Professor Vector walked to the front of the class holding a stack of paper. "I'm handing out the tests now," she said. "Anyone who talks after this moment will get a T. Remember, this test counts for 25 of this term's grade. Good luck."

Poor Hermione was hyperventilating by now. How could she have forgotten about this test? It was the most important in this whole class, and she had had five days to study for it! And now she was going to fail!

When Hermione got her test she flipped through it quickly. Her breath raced quicker with each passing page. She hardly knew any of these questions! And there was 162 of them!! And only 20 of them were multiple choice or matching!

With a whimper, Hermione put her quill on her paper and began writing with a shaking hand.

----------

That evening Harry holed himself up in his dormitory while boys from all houses flooded the common room for the Scarlett Fan Club meeting. This was the second night in a row that the fan club was hogging all his favorite seats by the fire.

So, to avoid the noise pollution, Harry spent a lonely night in his room. Hermione had bullied him into doing all his homework earlier that afternoon, so he found himself in a very boring position with absolutely nothing to do and absolutely no one to talk to. Eventually he found a book on Ron's bed that Hermione had been urging him to read. Ron had had the book for two weeks and had it bookmarked at page 8. _What the hell_, Harry thought, and he picked it up and began reading.

The reading was rough going at first. Harry ran across words that he had no idea existed. _Hermione might know the meaning to these, but they look like they're from a totally different language to me!_ But then he found a glossary in the back that translated every single unfamiliar word on the page, and he was soon reading happily on his bed with the curtains drawn around him.

Harry took a sip of pumpkin juice from the glass on his bedside table and turned the page just as a loud _CRACK_ split the air in his dormitory room. He gave a start and spilled his juice all across his front. "Who's there?" he called out.

"Harry Potter!!" squealed an overexcited. . . animal, was it?

"Dobby?" Harry said slowly as he drew back his curtains.

"It _is_ Dobby, sir!" The house elf said happily. "Dobby is honored to meet Harry Potter once again."

"It's good to see you, too, Dobby," Harry said sincerely, a grin splitting across his face. "What are doing here?"

"Dobby is gathering laundry, Harry sir," Dobby said. "I is having my turn for the washing."

"Okay," Harry said. "Can you take this shirt, too? I spilled pumpkin juice all over it."

"What an honor it would be!" Dobby said breathlessly as Harry took off his shirt and handed it in a damp bundle to the ecstatic house elf.

Just then, the door burst open and Ginny walked into the dormitory. Her gaze fell upon Harry, and she gave a gasp of surprise (which was a convenient way to hide her delight). She froze completely when Harry lifted his head and met her wide brown eyes with his green own.

"I. . .I'm sorry," she stammered. "I should have knocked." And she was about to walk out of the room when Harry stopped her.

"Wait," he said. "You don't need to leave."

Ginny turned around quite willingly and said, "You don't mind?"

"You've already seen me without my shirt," Harry said reasonably. "There's nothing I can do about it now." And he began gathering his laundry from the ground.

Ginny could barely refrain from telling Harry how much she loved his logic. Instead, she leaned against the door and gazed at Harry.

"So what did you need?" Harry said as he dumped his laundry into a basket and handed it to Dobby.

"I needed to. . . um. . . borrow something from Ron," Ginny fudged. "Um. . . Dobby, what's the matter?"

For Dobby had paused in horror. "I is. . . Harry, sir, is that puce sock being yours in this basket?"

"Yes," Harry answered, pausing in his journey to his dresser.

"Is you putting. . . a _spell_ on the puce socks?"

"No," Harry said, his brow furrowed. "Why?"

"Terrible things has been happening!" Dobby explained, his dinner-plate eyes expanding even further. "I is watching yesterday as the house elves is washing the laundry. And one house-elf is touching a puce sock—just _touching_ it—and the house elf is becoming most dreadfully sick. Clockles—that is being the name of this elf—is vomiting all over the clothes and is spraying his supper on the other house elves—"

"Enough information, thank you," Harry said quickly. "I promise I haven't spelled any of my socks."

"Dobby is happy for that, sir," the house elf said, looking relieved. "I is not seeing grosser things since my old master is making us both naked and. . . and. . ." He suddenly lurched over to Harry's bedside table and cracked the empty glass over his head. "BAD Dobby! BAD Dobby!"

Harry lunged to Dobby's rescue. He waved his wand, and the shards of glass formed into a full cup and whizzed into Harry's left hand. "Are you okay, Dobby?" he asked.

"Dobby is most grateful," said the cross-eyed house elf. "I is still beating myself up for talking bad things about my old masters."

"What did Lucius do to you, Dobby?" Ginny said, a bit too eager in her curiosity.

"Dobby means no disrespect, but it is not for anyone's ears," Dobby said ruefully. "It is to be giving you nightmares."

"Or a strong fit of giggles," Ginny whispered in an undertone to Harry. He simply smiled and made his way over to his dresser to pull out a new shirt.

Dobby collected the last bits of laundry and levitated it all above his head. "I is giving you two some privacy now," he said. Harry could have sworn he flashed them a smile before he disappeared with a loud crack.

"An amusing fellow, Dobby is," Ginny said, suddenly shy.

"Yes," Harry said, pausing deliberately as he turned around with a clean jumper in hand. "I enjoy visiting him whenever I find nothing else to do."

"So does Hermione," Ginny said. "Weird, isn't it? Where is she right now, by the way?"

"Oh, she and Ron spirited themselves away to some forgotten corner of the castle to practice mouth-to-mouth," Harry answered in a bored tone. He sat down on his bed, his jumper still in his hand. He dropped it against his pillow and instead picked up his book.

"So you've been reading all evening?" Ginny said. She wondered why Harry postponed getting dressed, but decided to simply enjoy it, even if she didn't understand it.

"That's better than going to Scarlett's fan club," Harry said with a wry smile.

"Oh, gods," Ginny groaned. "Those boys are driving me crazy! The girls are, too, when it comes to it. They're all gathered in the Room of Requirement, where I'm sure they're passing the night abusing Scarlett and plotting revenge." They fell silent again, and she scuffed at the floor with her toe. "What are you reading?" she asked.

Harry held up the book. "_A Clockwork Orange_," he said. "Hermione thrust it on Ron two weeks ago, and I just now picked it up."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "She's been trying to get me to read it, too, ever since Luna gave it to her as a Christmas present. I can see why Luna likes it. It has tons of weird words, and it makes no sense."

"Actually," Harry said, "it has a glossary in the back. You must have missed it."

"Does it?" Ginny said, taking the book from his hands and flipping to the last pages. "Why, you're right! Who would have guessed?"

"It's a bit hard at first," Harry said, "having to flip back and forth between the glossary and the text. But after the first few chapters I memorized most of the words, and now I'm really enjoying it."

"Hmm," Ginny said. "Maybe I should give it another go once you finish it."

"You should," Harry said. He took the book back from Ginny, and their arms brushed against each other as _A Clockwork Orange_ switched hands. His heartbeat quickened as he felt her soft skin against his own.

For a while they stood gazing into each other's eyes, neither of them saying a word. Ginny wanted to reach forward and run her hands all over Harry's bare chest. Her fingers had moved forward of their own accord when she stopped herself and said, "What are you thinking about, Harry?"

Harry paused for a moment, wondering if he should give a flippant answer, or if he should give her the truth. He finally decided that he was Gryffindor enough to give her the truth, but not Gryffindor enough to give it directly. "I'm thinking about a list I've made," he said.

"What kind of list?" Ginny asked, her breath catching.

Dare he tell her? Yes, he dared. "It's a To—"

Suddenly the door burst open again, and Ron meandered into the room. He stopped short at the sight of Harry and his sister, who immediately sprang apart, looking extremely guilty. For a moment nobody said a word. Then Ron ventured, "Well. . . I hardly know whether to scream, laugh, or cry."

"Why would you cry?" Harry said.

Ron seemed to have settled on the laughing option. "No reason," he said, pressing his hand to his mouth to hold back his giggles. "Get dressed, Harry. Ginny, stop ogling him."

"I'm not—" Ginny began indignantly, but suddenly stopped, as her Gryffindor nobility kept her from lying.

"Yes, you were," Ron said.

"I wouldn't—" Once again, that darned nobility kicked in. Harry, meanwhile, quickly threw on his jumper and picked up _A Clockwork Orange_, unable to meet either Weasleys' gaze.

"Did you need to borrow something from Ron?" Harry asked Ginny, still not looking up from his book.

"What?" Ginny said, flustered. "No. What gave you that idea?" She quickly left the room looking very disappointed.

Ron raised his eyebrows at his friend, but Harry looked back with pure innocence. "That's why she came in here in the first place," he explained. "She said she needed to borrow something from you."

"Like my best friend, perhaps," Ron said, shaking his head. "I'm sure she would have returned you in the morning."

----------

By Wednesday morning Ginny seemed to have gotten over her unsuccessful visit with Harry the night before. In fact, she was positively giddy when Hermione met her in the common room to head down to breakfast.

"How was last night?" Hermione asked.

"Ron interrupted me before I could get any confession of undying love from Harry," Ginny said. "But I haven't yet tried my fullest. I'm feeling optimistic about next time."

"Ron and I had a really good time last night," Hermione said, "but I nearly fell asleep in his warm embrace, so I just had to get up to bed and get some rest. But I'm feeling optimistic today, too."

They entered the Great Hall to see the owls flying away from the tables. When the last owl had disappeared up the rafters, one of its feathers floated down to the floor to complete silence.

It was as if the entire hall had been petrified. The boys held their fourth issues of _The Scarlett Letter_ in their hands, bug-eyed and completely silent. The girls were staring at the boys, their expressions furious. The teachers, even, had fallen silent. Professor Vector was hastily shoving a rolled-up magazine into her bag. Flitwick, Sprout, and many of the other teachers were gazing out at the tables of students, wondering what Scarlett had done this time. McGonagall looked absolutely furious. And Dumbledore sat serenely with that ever-present twinkle in his eyes.

Ginny forced herself to hold back a giggle. Hermione, too, couldn't keep a smile from her face as she slipped calmly into the seat beside Ron. "What's Scarlett done this time?" he whispered to his girlfriend.

"Knowing her, something big," Hermione said simply.

"Did you know??" Parvati hissed from the other side of Hermione. "Hermione, she's done it!"

"Done what?" Hermione asked innocently as she scooped two link sausages and a pile of fresh fruit on her plate.

Parvati shoved her copy of _The Scarlett Letter _into Hermione's hands. She took a look at the cover. It read: "SCARLETT REVEALED!!" These words, written in red, were splattered in a white box that conveniently covered an otherwise entirely naked Scarlett. Hermione turned to the first page in the magazine and got an eyeful of a portrait: Scarlett stood ankle-deep in a fountain pool, her breasts glistening with water. The picture was full-on, and she wasn't wearing anything.

Hermione theatrically jerked the newsletter away to an arm's-length from her face. She flipped quickly through the magazine, stopping on each picture just long enough to catch a glimpse.

Many of the photos featured Scarlett's adoring men. They, too, had decided to shed their last scraps of clothing, and they accompanied Scarlett throughout the pages and into a myriad of orgiastic spectacles. Somehow, through the roiling masses of bare, glistening skin, Scarlett managed to remain the forefront of each photo.

"My, my," Hermione said mildly as she reached the last page of the magazine. "How revealing."

"Did you see _this _picture?" Lavender demanded as she flipped to one near the front. It happened to be one of the moving photos.

"Ah, the one where (Ron, don't look!) Scarlett's being prodded with lots of. . . prods?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, that one!" Parvati said furiously.

"Um. . ." said Hermione. "What's wrong with it? I guess it is unusual to have intercourse with more than one guy at the same time, but hey. . . whatever floats her boat."

"It's not that!" Parvati said, "it's _that_!"

Hermione peered closely at Parvati's furiously rigid finger. "Oh, those five women slinking away in the background, looking left out and jealous?"

"Yes!" Parvati cried. "They look a whole lot like me, Lavender, Daphne, Pansy, and Romilda!"

" 'Lavender, Daphne, Pansy, Romilda, and me,' " Hermione corrected her delicately. "I'm sure it's just coincidence. They are awfully beautiful women, and you five are awfully beautiful. It's easy to see the resemblance."

Parvati rolled her eyes and snatched back the copy of the newsletter. "Whatever that picture's all about," she said, "there's gonna be hell to pay!"

----------

This pornographic issue of _The Scarlett Letter_ promised not to be forgotten any time soon. On Wednesday nobody could take a single step through Hogwarts castle without seeing at least one picture of Scarlett peeking out from her brazen magazine. Most of the subscribers had the sense to hide the newsletter during class, but instead pulled out blank parchment and began writing rave reviews to Scarlett instead of taking notes. The teachers were losing their last threads of patience, and the girls were absolutely furious. Something had to give.

In the Room of Requirement that night the girls decided it most certainly wouldn't be them. "We won't let this scarlet hussy beat us down!" Pansy cried angrily to her frenzied audience. "She may have won this round against us, but we'll come back and beat her to a bloody pulp!"

"And how do we propose to do that?" Hannah piped up, business-like, from the crowd. "Simply creating our own newsletter hasn't worked."

"We've got to expand," Lavender said excitedly. "We have to out-Scarlett Scarlett."

"But how?" Parvati chipped in.

The crowd of girls fell into deep thought. For a moment the Room of Requirement was silent.

Then Luna spoke up. "Perhaps we should stop trying to beat Scarlett. Maybe we just need to set up some really special event for the boys—something they'd really enjoy, like a Quidditch tournament—and they'd lose interest in Scarlett. Hot photos aren't everything, you know."

The girls turned to stare at Luna incredulously. For the longest time nobody spoke. Then Luna's serene smile widened as she said, "Too loony, isn't it? The veilabat would never do something like that."

"Um, what _would_ the veilabat do?" Daphne hesitantly asked the batty Ravenclaw.

Luna pursed her lips in thought. "I do believe she'd strip off her red bikini disguise and do some nude photos herself."

"That's it!" Parvati cried happily. "We have to do our own nude photo shoot! The boys _can't_ ignore us after that!"

Once again, the door to the photo set appeared in the far wall. The girls started swarming towards it when Pansy called out, "Wait! We can't rush into this like we did last time. We need to plan this photo shoot properly."

"Why?" Orla Quirke piped up from the midst of the crowd. "We did fine last time."

"What we really need," said Pansy, "is some hot guys who will be willing to participate in our shoot. The Hogwarts boys keep saying we aren't as popular as Scarlett because we weren't able to find any guys that were willing to be in our pictures. We need to prove them wrong."

"A nude photo shoot with nude boys," Luna said mildly. "What fun! I'll see if I can recruit Harry."

"Wow, really?" Parvati perked up. "That would be _soooo_ awesome! I've always wanted to see Harry's goods!"

"And I'll try to convince Ernie to join us for a picture or two," Susan offered. "He'll only pose with me, I'm sure, but it'll still be worth the effort."

"I'll bet I could convince my parents to let me 'rent' some studs for the shoot," Daphne said. "They spoil me rotten; it's actually pretty pathetic at times. But I still love them, and they probably won't even ask any questions."

"Perfect!" Romilda said. "How soon could you get them?"

"If I wrote my parents immediately, I could sneak the studs in tomorrow evening before curfew," Daphne said.

"So we'll meet back here tomorrow evening at 8:00, then?" Romilda said.

"Yes," Parvati said. "If anyone else is able, try to convince some more Hogwarts boys to join the photo shoot. I wish us all the best of luck."

* * *

At around the same time Harry was coming back from a late-night visit to Hagrid's. He was now wandering the second floor under his invisibility cloak on a massive detour to Gryffindor tower. As he turned down one particular hall he ran into an expansive stretch of water that flooded the entire corridor. He hitched up his silvery cloak so as not to get it wet, then tip-toed gingerly through the water.

_SPLASH!_ Ripples suddenly appeared in the water, traveling rapidly towards Harry. He heard laughter farther on down the hallway. Someone was there!

He tiptoed even more quietly as he reached the person who was responsible for the commotion. Much to his surprise, he found Luna splashing happily through the water, her shoes dangling from her fingers. "Luna?" he said.

"Who is it?" Luna lilted. It sounded like she was talking to some unknown person on the other side of a door, as opposed to a disembodied voice right next to her ear. "Is it one of the filly-bugs? Because if it is, you really need to speak up."

"No, not a filly-bug," Harry said, pulling down the hood of the invisibility cloak. "It's just Harry."

"Whoa," Luna said, taking a step back. "I never would have expected that."

A laugh quivered on Harry's lips, and he decided not to answer that comment.

Luna began patting her heel against the surface of the water. "I just came back from a girl's meeting in the Room of Requirement," she said.

"And I just came back from Hagrid's."

"We—the girls, that is—are doing a nude photo shoot," Luna informed Harry.

This time it was Harry who took a step back. "Um. . . any reason?"

"It's for our newsletter," Luna explained calmly. "We want to boys to pay attention to us, not Scarlett."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "So you think doing your own porn magazine will help?"

"No, of course not," Luna said, shocked at the thought. "It's a horrible idea! I suggested we set up a very

fun and special event for the guys, but they didn't like that idea. By the way they looked at me, you'd think I was a crazy loon."

"What's wrong with being a crazy loon?" Harry asked reasonably.

"Good point," Luna said mildly. "But I don't consider myself loony. I'm totally normal. It's everyone else that is crazy."

Harry couldn't help laughing at her logic. "And why did you want to tell me all of this?"

"Because," Luna said, "we want you to participate."

Harry took another step back and stared at the blond-haired Ravenclaw incredulously. "You guys want _me_ to pose nude with Hogwarts' female population?"

"Yes," Luna said. "The girls seem to think that, if they have a bunch of hot studs in the magazine (like Scarlett), it'll make them look popular.

Harry let out a disbelieving laugh. "And why would I _want_ to do that?"

"For fun!" Luna said with wide eyes. "Why else do you think I'm participating in the shoot?"

"For fun. . ." Harry repeated, still unable to believe his ears.

"Yeah!" Luna said, pleased that Harry had heard her correctly. "Don't you ever get to urge to take off your

clothes once in a while?"

"Not in front of a million blinking cameras, I don't," Harry said.

"_I _do," Luna informed him. "Especially when all the pictures go on the critics' chopping block, and I have to wait to see how much praise my photos get."

"I'm not putting my sausage on the chopping block," Harry said. "Only the person on my To Do List gets to see my sausage."

"Person?" Luna inquired innocently. "Not persons?"

"_Person_," Harry said firmly. "Sorry to disappoint, Luna, but I'm really not up to a nude photo shoot."

"Okay, then," Luna said. "I didn't really expect you to accept anyway. Not even if Ginny was there."

Harry tried his best to gulp quietly. "Ginny?" he said, his voice husky. "What does she have to do with this?"

"She's your To Do List," Luna said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Everybody knows that."

Harry gulped again. "D—do they?" he whispered.

Luna thought for a moment. "All right, everybody except Ginny."

"Oh, God," Harry managed to whisper.

Luna smiled serenely at him as if they had just had a pleasant conversation about the weather. "So if you're not going to do the nude photo shoot, could you at least help me find out where all this water's coming from?"

"Moaning Myrtle's bathroom," Harry said, indicating the door behind his back. "She hasn't created this big a mess since Ginny threw a book through her head. She must really be upset."

"Maybe a filly-bug has been teasing her," Luna suggested. "They can really get on your nerves."

"Maybe," Harry said evasively.

"Let's see if we can cheer her up," Luna suggested. And, before Harry could protest, she pushed against the "OUT OF ORDER" sign and steered them both into the waterlogged bathroom.

Water gushed from every single sink faucet and bubbled out from every toilet. Harry took his invisibility cloak off completely and waded through the knee-deep water with a revolted expression. Luna looked completely unfazed, as if traipsing through flooded bathrooms was a part of her daily routine.

Moaning Myrtle herself sat at the top of her stall, moaning and weeping in her ghostly, high pitch. She turned her head when Luna and Harry entered the bathroom and simply sniffed as they trudged their way through the current to reach the foot of her cubicle.

"Hello, Myrtle," Luna said brightly. "How are you?"

Moaning Myrtle sniffed gigantically. "Miserable," she croaked. "Everybody hates me."

"No, we don't," Harry piped up, afraid that Luna might answer too honestly for Myrtle's delicate feelings. "I _love_ visiting you."

"Which is why I only see you once a year, I suppose?" Myrtle sniffed dramatically.

"Uh. . ." Harry said, "You see, I'm very, very busy, and the teachers always, um, watch this corridor, just in case. . . just in case a boy tries to. . . get in. . ."

"You can visit Harry in his own bathroom up in Gryffindor tower," Luna suggested brightly. Harry closed his eyes in horror. When he opened them, he saw that a smile now twitched the corner of Myrtle's transparent lips.

"Maybe I will," she said. Then she became gloomy again. "But everyone _still_ hates me. People tease me all the time."

"No, we don't!" Harry assured her.

"They call me _Moaning Myrtle_," Moaning Myrtle wailed. "And now some girl who calls herself Scarlett has been playing a horrible joke on me!"

"What?" Harry and Luna said together, both perking up.

"She's writing about taking me out on a date at Hogsmeade on the 18th," Myrtle sniffed. "And she sometimes calls me Zach. . . or even—" here her voice dropped— "_Zachy-wacky_."

Harry tried his hardest, but couldn't hold back a smile.

"SEE?" Moaning Myrtle shrieked. "EVEN YOU THINK IT'S FUNNY!"

"No, no, no!" Harry insisted. "We aren't laughing at all! In fact, I even want to help you work this out. How's that sound? Where are the letters?"

"Right there," Moaning Myrtle sniffed, pointing a ghostly finger at a small stack of letters that sat precariously on the corner of the stall and away from the water. Harry had to jump to reach them.

Then he realized something. "They're open," he said.

"So?" Myrtle said, her ire rising. "They were addressed to me; I had every right to read them."

"No, it's not that," Harry said pensively. "It's just. . . you're a ghost. How did you manage to open the letters in the first place? They'd just go right through you."

This was not the correct thing to say. Moaning Myrtle immediately burst into noisy tears and wailed, "Why must you _always_ remind me that I'm dead? I suppose next you're going to ask me how I manage to turn on all the sinks in the bathroom!"

"I've always wondered that, actually." Only Harry didn't say this, because he knew it would make Moaning Myrtle even more upset. Instead, he put the letters in his pocket and said in an undertone to Luna, "I'll give these to Hermione; she can forward them to Scarlett."

"You're talking about me, aren't you?" Myrtle moaned.

"No, we weren't!" Harry said. . .

At the same time that Luna said, "Yes, we were."

The Ravenclaw's answer was so unexpected that Moaning Myrtle stopped mid-wail. Both she and Harry stared at Luna. "I was telling Harry that I was madly envious of you," Luna said brightly, "because you're a ghost. And since you're a ghost, you can have sex with Nearly-Headless Nick."

"Can she?" Harry hissed.

"I heard that!" Moaning Myrtle shrieked, indignant. "Just because I'm dead doesn't me I can't have sex anymore!"

"Don't be too harsh on Harry," Luna placated. "He has his dumb moments." Here she turned to Harry and let her smile widen for a moment, then turned back to Myrtle. "Anyway, guess what Peeves just told me about Nearly-Headless Nick?"

Moaning Myrtle perked up. "What?" she said eagerly.

Luna leaned forward conspiratorially and said in a half-whisper, "Not only does he take a bath in the Prefects' Bathroom at 3:00 in the afternoon on the 9th day of each month, but he also likes to wander periodically in the dungeons completely naked. He often does it in the dead of night when nobody else is up."

"Oh, really?" Myrtle said brightly. "Thanks!" And she dived down the toilet and drenched Luna and Harry in the resulting splash.

Harry raised his eyebrows at her retreating gurgling. Lina simply giggled and said, "I like her."

"That makes one of us," Harry muttered under his breath. "C'mon, we'd better shut off the water before Filch finds out and gets really mad."

"Why?" Luna asked curiously. "We can get out of here under your invisibility cloak and let Filch turn off the water himself."

Harry grinned. "Sounds like a plan to me," he said.

----------

By Transfiguration the next morning Gregory Goyle was still in a daze from the barrage of photos in _The Scarlett Letter_. While the fan club had gabbled for hours on end about each and every picture, Gregory simply stared at his magazine and took in every detail of Scarlett's body. Tonight he might try drawing pictures of Scarlett with Dean Thomas again.

As they sat down in their desks Draco calmly flicked open his copy of Scarlett's magazine and placed it inside his Transfiguration book. Gregory did the same thing, but with much more reverence.

"She's the hottest!" Blaise whispered from his position next to Draco.

"Mmmm," the blond-haired Slytherin replied. "So you finally approve of her?"

"What are you talking about?" Blaise whispered back. "I've _always_ approved of this Scarlett thing! She's the phenomenon of the year!"

"So it may seem," Draco said as he slumped in his seat.

"You're awfully gloomy today," Vincent said.

"Probably his break-up with Pansy," Blaise said sagely.

"I swear, I'm totally over that!" Draco insisted. "I stopped thinking about her _months _ago!"

At this time McGonagall began calling out roll, and the class fell silent. Gregory goggled at yet another image of Scarlett. Then the class began taking notes on a long, boring lecture.

Gregory flipped the page. It settled with a whisper on a two-page, landscaped photo of a naked Scarlett doing something very intimate with a naked man. Somehow she managed to look dominant even though she was on the bottom.

_That man looks a little bit like me_, Gregory thought. His heart gave a sudden jolt. So did his groin. _He has my bristly brown hair and my stocky build. And he has my dull chocolate eyes, even. Oh God, if only I could be in his position!_

Gregory slowly began to turn on as his pants tented beneath his robes. To complicate matters, the picture of Scarlett was one of the moving ones, which (with this photo) involved quite a bit of rocking. Gregory surreptitiously transferred his magazine to his lap to hide the growing bulge in his pants.

McGonagall paused in her lecturing to write out a long list on the chalkboard in the front of the classroom. Gregory put a hand under his magazine. "Calm down," he whispered to his excited member. Draco and Blaise shot him strange looks.

Gregory didn't quite know what to do. He couldn't tear his eyes or his mind off the picture, but the bulge in his pants was growing every second. He thrust his hand against it in hopes of pushing it down again. If anything, it only made him more excited. He let out a little moan.

Draco stared at him. "Oh, oh, oh!" Gregory let out another moan. "Uuuuuhh!" McGonagall whirled around to pinpoint the source of commotion.

Try as he might, Gregory couldn't stop himself. He suddenly seemed to have lost control of his hands as they moved back and forth even quicker than before. He began rocking in his desk—slowly at first, but gaining more and more momentum with each swing. Then his control snapped altogether.

"Oh, yes! Uuuuhhh! Oh God. UUUUHHH! YES, YES, YES!"

McGonagall stared at him with mounting horror. The students began giggling. But Gregory no longer saw the class around him. He only saw Scarlett and him together in that picture, fulfilling his wild fantasies.

Then, with a soft gasp, it was all over. Nobody in the class spoke a word, but stared at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. McGonagall swept down the aisle and stopped at Goyle's desk. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Just what do you think you're doing, Goyle?!" McGonagall barked at him. "Reading magazines under the table, are we?" She snatched up _The Scarlett Letter_. . .

And nearly dropped it. The students suppressed their laughter. "Reading _pornography_, no less!" McGonagall whispered in horror. "Detention!"

She stopped short as she ran her fingers across the pages. "What in the world did you put on this magazine?" she demanded. Goyle didn't answer, but merely whimpered.

McGonagall's gaze followed the milky white film that covered the magazine, then trailed in sticky tendrils between her hand and Goyle's, which was firmly lodged in his pants. Her eyes bugged nearly all the way out of her head in realization. "A WEEK OF DETENTION!!" she shrieked, her voice echoing to the ceiling. "WE'RE SEEING PROFESSOR DUMBLEDORE RIGHT NOW!"

She quickly cast a Scourgify on her hand and the magazine. The milky white rope broke and slapped wetly against Goyle's leg. She didn't perform the spell for Goyle, but simply marched from the room. Gregory stood up miserably and followed her numbly from the room. He tried—and failed—to hide the expansive wet spot that spread across the front of his pants. He gave a last whimper as he and McGonagall left the room.

Then the entire room burst into laughter and refused to be calmed down, not even when Filch (followed closely by Peeves) rushed in and started yelling at them.

----------

On a scrap of paper in Potions:

_Lav, Daphne asks if you were able to get any boys to participate in our shoot._

_No such luck, Parvati. I tried asking Seamus, but he hardly even paid attention to me._

_Daphne says that she was able to hire the studs, and that they'll reach Hogwarts at 8:00 tonight._

_That's great. I hope Luna was able to secure Harry Potter. I've always wanted to see him naked._

_Hell, yes! What kinds of photos would we put him in?_

_I want to be in a picture with him!_

_As does every single girl in the whole school, Lav._

_Maybe I can be stroking him on the Astronomy Tower set. Or perhaps we should be washing each other in the pool beneath the waterfall._

_Oh, yes! I'd like to be with him in the bedroom set. That would be absolutely glorious! Oh, and Daphne says she'd like him in the library alcove._

_I'd think it would be really sweet if he and Luna snuggled together on the woodland set. She deserves one picture with him if she succeeds in engaging him in this shoot._

"Passing notes in class, are we?" Lavender and Parvati jumped as they saw Professor Snape standing right above them with an air of great displeasure on his sallow face. "Ten points from Gryffindor. Hand it over."

"But. . ." Lavender squeaked.

"Hand it over!"

And Lavender handed the note to Professor Snape, but not before she tapped the parchment once with her wand.

Snape's lip curled as he flicked open the note and began reading aloud. "_So, Parvati, what do you think of that sexy man in the front of the classroom?_

"_I think he's the hottest creature in all creation." _Snape's lip curled as he drew out each sentence written across the bespelled parchment. "I wonder who this mysterious person could be?" he commented before he continued. "_I would so bang him. _Ten points from Gryffindor.

"_His curtains of dark, greasy hair turn me on. All that grease would make a great lubrication._

"_Heck, yes! Professor Snape is the hottest—"_ The Potions Master stopped in the middle of the sentence as his face turned the color of sour milk. "Detention, Brown and Patil, and thirty points from Gryffindor."

He swept away from them with the note still in his hands. And, despite the fifty points lost and the detention, Parvati couldn't help but giggle into her hand. "Wow, did you do that, Lav?"

"Yeah," Lavender whispered. "It's too bad he didn't get further along into the letter. That's where it got _really_ randy!"

_----------_

_Dear Zacharias,_

_Forget the nicknames; they've created too much confusion. I'm Scarlett, and you're Zacharias. I have enclosed all my letters that went astray. Sorry for the mix-up._

_Love you bunches,_

_Scarlett_

_

* * *

Dear Scarlett,_

_I'm pleasantly impressed with the photos in your newest edition of _The Scarlett Letter. _The nudity was aesthetically pleasing and fun to look at. Thank you for brightening up my day._

_Sincerely,_

_Verity Vector_

----------

Hermione entered Arithmancy that day with a wormy feeling in her stomach. She sat down in her desk and pulled out her book with a sigh.

"How do you think you did on the test?" Terry Boot asked her excitedly. "I think I at least got an A. I'll bet you got an O."

_Or a P, if I'm very lucky,_ Hermione thought. She gave a tiny whimper.

Professor Vector went to the front of the classroom with a large stack of parchment in her arms. "These are your tests," she said. "Remember, this is a big part of your term average. If you did well on this test, you'll likely do well for the term. If, however, you failed this test, you have likely failed the term." Hermione let out a little moan.

And Professor Vector began walking up and down the aisles, laying the tests face-down on the students' desks. When she laid Hermione's on her desk, Hermione grabbed it anxiously, her hands shaking in trepidation.

She got a D.

_Dreadful!_ _Oh, oh, oh!_ And Hermione began to cry softly into her arm. She had failed the term, she just

knew it! How could this have happened to her? She was supposed to be smart!

But now she wasn't. She was dumb. She was _dreadful_.

"How did you do, Hermione?" Terry asked her. "I got an E!"

Hermione didn't answer, but stuffed her test paper deep into her bag and began crying some more.

* * *

Ginny and Luna sat at the lunch table an hour-and-a-half later waiting patiently for Hermione. She hadn't yet come from Arithmancy.

"Maybe she had to stay behind to speak to Professor Vector," Luna suggested.

Ginny hid a smile. "Speaking of which, Scarlett just forwarded another one of Vector's letters to Hermione. It's a hoot."

"Is it?" Luna said. "So is Scarlett. Such an amusing woman, she is. Were you mad to see Harry at the top of her To Do List?"

Ginny slipped against the table and nearly fell to the floor. "What?" she said quickly. "Why would I be?"

"Because," Luna said, "He's your To Do List. Everybody knows that."

Ginny gulped. "D—do they?" she whispered.

Luna thought for a moment. "All right, everybody except Harry."

"Oh, God," Ginny managed to whisper.

Luna smiled serenely at her as if they had just had a pleasant conversation about the weather. Ginny's mind was still reeling over Harry when Hermione stumbled to the table in tears.

"Oh, Hermione!" Ginny cried. "What's the matter?"

"I. . . I. . ." Hermione whispered. Then she dissolved into another wave of weeping.

"What is it?" Ginny coaxed. "Was it your test? Did you not do as well as you expected?"

"I got. . ." Hermione gasped, "I got. . . a. . . a—a—a. . . a _D_. I've failed the whole term."

"Oh, that's too bad," Luna said sympathetically. "Was the filly-bug annoying you during the test? They're notorious for making people lose their concentration." Ginny shook her head at Luna, as if to say, "Now's not the time."

Hermione wept into Ginny's shoulder for quite some time. Her body shook with each sob as she cried out all her worries and fears over her bad grade. Then she wiped a hand across her reddened eyes and said in a hoarse voice. "I forgot to study for the test. Right after I took it I went over all the information and realized it wasn't actually that hard. But by then it was too late. I'll have to spend the rest of the year doing extra credit just to bring my grade up to an A."

Ginny gave her friend a comforting hug. "No, you won't," she said.

"Yes, I will!" Hermione moaned.

"But you say you know all the information now?"

"Yes, but Vector won't let me retake the test!"

"Have you asked her?" Ginny said.

"Um, no," Hermione said sheepishly. "But she won't just let me. . . _retake_ the whole thing! I don't have any excuse."

"You can say that you were very distracted and sick that day," Luna suggested. "Or you can tell her that the humus-glider wiped your memory temporarily. The last would probably be the best excuse."

"No, there's a much easier way. . ." Ginny said, a smile suddenly creeping across her face as she ran her finger lovingly over the letter in her hands.

* * *

That afternoon Hermione headed for Vector's Arithmancy classroom. She had just stepped through the door when she saw that the professor was already entertaining a visitor. Flitwick stood at her desk, speaking softly to her, but not so softly that Hermione couldn't hear their conversation.

"Are you sure you don't want to go to Hogsmeade with me on Saturday?" Flitwick asked her tearfully.

"I'm quite sure," Verity Vector said crisply.

"Why not?" Flitwick asked. "Is it because I'm too short? Because I assure you that not everything about me is a short as it seems."

Vector glared at him. "Oh?" she said sharply. "If you start that 'let's guess each others' measurements' thing again, I'm seriously going to hex you into next century." Hermione could barely hold back a giggle here.

"Look, I'm really sorry for that," Flitwick whispered. "I thought then that you wouldn't mind."

Verity glared sternly. "Unfortunately, I _do_." Her voice held a note of finality in it, but Flitwick refused to take a hint.

"I just want one good reason why you don't want to go out with me!" he pressed.

Verity sighed and slumped back in her seat. "You want the truth?" she said.

"Yes." Both Flitwick and Hermione waited with baited breath for Vector's answer.

"It's because you're stupid," she said at length.

"What?" Flitwick said, clearly hurt. "Why am I stupid?"

"Because you want to go out with me," Vector answered curtly. "Good day."

"But—"

"_GOOD DAY!_"

"Please, Verity, can't we talk about this?"

"We most certainly CAN'T! JUST LEAVE ME BE!" She whipped out her wand at pointed it at the tiny Charms professor.

This time Flitwick took the hint. He scampered from the room as fast as his tiny legs could carry him. Hermione quickly ducked out of the classroom before he reached the door, then waited until he was a full fifty yards down the hallway before strolling back into the classroom.

Professor Vector looked up when she saw Hermione. "Yes, what is it?" she snapped curtly. She looked very harassed

"I. . . I wanted to retake my test," Hermione said softly.

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that," the professor replied, somewhat impatiently. "That test counts for a big part of your term grade; it would be unfair to the rest of the class if I exclusively let you retake it. You should have been prepared."

"I was," Hermione said. "I know everything that the test covers. It's just. . . well, on the day of the test I had just received some very bad news from my parents about a, um , sick uncle. And I felt very, very ill myself. Both of them combined seemed to make everything leak from my brain, if you know what I mean. My concentration was totally shot."

Professor Vector's expression softened a little bit. "I'm very sorry," she said, "but I cannot let you retake the test without a note from a teacher or a healer that explains the circumstances that caused you to do so poorly on the test."

Hermione adopted a pleading expression while she quickly ran over all over Verity's letters to Scarlett in her mind. "But your class is my favorite class!" she said. "It's aesthetically pleasing and fun to look at. It. . . brightens up my day. And I must say, I am favorably impressed with your class. I confess that I spend a good deal of my other classes reading my. . . _Arithmancy book_ under my desk—and I'm the student! You needn't answer this comment; I just wanted to tell you how much I'm enjoying your class."

Hermione knew her little speech, as a speech, made absolutely no sense. But Professor Vector understood enough of it to stare at her bushy-haired student with wide eyes. Hermione continued. "This whole episode has turned me _scarlet _with embarrassment. But I can retake the test. Then you could send my new score by the night post, so that I may receive it without the knowledge of anyone else. I would really appreciate it. Sincerely, Hermione Granger."

Professor Vector goggled at her in horror. Hermione tried to keep her expression neutral as she matched her professor's gaze with one of her own. Then the Arithmancy teacher opened her desk and pulled out a fresh copy of the test. "Take as long as you need," she said in a half-whisper. "I'll grade it once you finish."

----------

That night after dinner Pansy headed over to the Gryffindor table to meet with Parvati, Lavender, and Romilda. Once they all gathered together they moved farther down the table away from Ginny and Hermione, who were still eating a late dinner.

"Is everything ready for the photo shoot?" Romilda asked the others.

"Just about," Pansy said happily. "Daphne's heading down to the gates right now to meet the hired studs."

"Perfect," Romilda said happily. "And were we able to get any other boys?"

"Sadly, no," Parvati said. "Susan tried to convince Ernie to join in, but he says he's out of shape and would just make our newsletter look bad. And Luna says that Harry Potter adamantly refused to take any part in it."

"Too bad," Romilda said with a sigh. "I would have much liked to see Harry Potter naked."

Just then, Katie Bell strode happily over to the small gaggle of girls with two identical redheads in tow. "Hey, guys!" she called out to the leaders of The Conspiracy. "Look, I got us two studs to participate in the shoot!"

From the other end of the table Ginny leapt up from her seat and rushed down the aisle between the tables and flung herself around the two twins. "Fred, George! What're you two doing here?" she asked.

"Visiting," Fred said happily.

"Katie here wanted to see us again," George explained lightly.

"And we needed to hand out some free samples from our joke shop," Fred added. "Business is booming. And our target consumers are all right here at Hogwarts."

"It's great to see you again," Ginny said, giving them each a hug before she skipped back to Hermione.

Pansy watched Ginny go with some relief. If she found out about the shoot, then she'd tell Hermione, who would in turn tell Scarlett. They couldn't have that happening. The Slytherin turned to the Weasley twins and said, "So. . . you two are joining us in our shoot?"

"Yes, indeed," Fred said. "We've always wanted the chance to participate in a nude photographic escapade."

"Though Katie had to bribe us each with a turn to pose with her before we agreed," George said. "This shoot is gonna be wicked!"

Then they spent the time until 8:00 engaging in small talk before they all headed up to the Room of Requirement. There they met almost every other girl in Hogwarts. None of the Conspirator leaders bothered with a speech, but instead led the girls and boys immediately into the photo set.

The studs promptly made themselves at home by taking off their clothes. Some of them left on their revealing underwear, but most of the studs stripped it all off and waited patiently for the girls to give them their orders.

Meanwhile, the girls themselves began undoing their robes and peeling off their shirts. Luna, who now wore nothing more than her silky white bra and panties, began handing out sheer white robes for the nude models to wear between shots. Most of the studs turned down the robes and instead chose to lounge around in their natural glory.

Fred took a sheer white robe with a dazed expression on his face as he watched the girls around him strip off their garments. "Gosh, I'm gonna have a boner throughout this whole shoot," he remarked to Katie. "Is that okay?"

"It'll be fine," Katie assured him. "It'll look more realistic that way."

Demelza Robins—who, as a photographer, still had her clothes on—took Luna's arm in one hand and grabbed a stud around the waist with the other. She led them to the pool beneath the waterfall and handed them each their costumes.

"This robe is tiny," Luna remarked, holding up the miniscule white bundle Demelza had given her, which was no bigger than her fist. "Is must have been made to fit a baby veilabat."

"Oh really?" said the stud as he slipped off his black underwear and pulled on the white bathing robe, which was fully see-through. He ran a hand through his dark brown hair in preparation. "What's a veilabat?"

"It's a creature," Luna explained, wide-eyed, as she, too, shed her underwear and donned her own robe.

"They disguise themselves as women in red bikinis, then bring bad luck upon unwary men. That's why I never wear red bikinis—I wouldn't want anyone to mistake me for a veilabat!"

They got into the pool, and their white robes clung to their frames as soon as the water touched them. "Luna, turn away from him and lay your head against his chest," Demelza directed the blond Ravenclaw.

"Will do," Luna said as she splayed herself flush against her stud. The top of her blond hair barely tickled his chin.

"And you," Demelza said to the stud, "Place your hands right under her breast, but not on the nipple. We want to see the nipple."

"Okay," the stud agreed. He arranged himself in the requested position.

"And turn Luna more towards the camera," Demelza continued. "We're making a magazine for boys, so

they'll want the girls in the forefront."

"Got it," Luna said. She and her stud shifted position.

"And pretend like you're laughing and having a good time," Demelza continued.

"This is fun," Luna said, pasting a sincere smile on her face. "It makes a wonderful change from all that schoolwork that the teachers assign us in OWL year."

The stud let out a laugh as Demelza's camera flashed. "Oh, don't remind me of OWL year. That was torture. At least with NEWTS you're already prepared for all the hard work and studying." The camera flashed again.

"Oh, what NEWTS did you get?" Luna asked mildly.

"I got an O in Muggle Studies," the stud told her proudly. "And an E in Charms, and—"

"Now take the bathing robes off," Demelza instructed. "And sit down in the pool. Get in his lap, Luna, but face him this time, and make sure you guys are still smiling."

"—and an A in Potions and Arithmancy and Ancient Runes."

"Luna, make sure your breasts are above water," Demelza put in.

"Oh, I love Ancient Runes!" Luna said eagerly as she complied with the photographer's request. "Did you hear about the set of ancient runes that, when turned on their heads, reveal a spell to make your enemy's ears turn into kumquats?"

"I have!" the stud cried excitedly. "I read about it in _The Quibbler_!"

"C'mon, let's go to the woodland set," Demelza told them.

"Oh, do you read _The Quibbler_, too?" Luna asked happily as they passed the broom closet set, where Katie, Fred, and George posed as a nude threesome having a bawdy time.

"It's my favorite magazine," the stud said sincerely. They had left their clothes at the pool and were now wandering around the photo shoot naked. "I became a fan at the age of thirteen. My parents don't like it that much because they think it's too weird. But _I _think they're too conservative."

"My dad isn't like that," Luna said easily. "Then again, he's the editor of _The Quibbler_, so he's never too conservative."

"Is he really?" the stud said enviously as they reached the woodland set. "That's so cool!"

"It is," Luna said. "This past summer we went on an expedition to find a Crumple-Horned Snorkack."

"And did you find any?"

"No, but they're very hard to find as it is," Luna said unconcernedly. "We did have some interesting conversations with the filly-bugs, though."

"Oooh, those are—"

"Cuddle up in the nest of rabbits," Demelza instructed them.

"—the strangest creatures I've ever come across," the stud finished.

"And make sure _all_ your private places are showing," Demelza continued.

"I know," Luna said to the stud. "I thought I was having a conversation with one the other day, and it only turned out to be Harry Potter in his invisibility cloak."

"You know Harry Potter?" the stud said in awe as Demelza began taking pictures.

"Yes," Luna said casually. "He's one of the few people who are actually nice to me. But he has a crush on Ginny, who's another one of our friends. It's really cute, actually, how the two dance around each other. You should watch it—it's like the Famripples' mating dance."

"I've seen a Famripple mating dance before!" the stud said excitedly as Demelza snapped one last photo. "It was breathtaking the way that the male and female circled around each other for ages on end before finally making their timid move. But when they finally made contact—woah, I was blown away by their ferocity!"

"Come, let's go over to the Astronomy Tower set," said Demelza.

"Wow!" Luna said breathlessly, her eyes wide, as the stud helped her stand up. "The Famripple is even shier than the Crumple-Horned Snorkack!"

"I know," the stud said as they passed a group of girls and guys posing an orgy on a boat in a lake. "I saw it in the field behind my house when I was fifteen years old, and I'll never forget it."

They reached the Astronomy Tower set when he added, "But you said that most people aren't nice to you. Why is that?"

"Oh, they think I'm too loony," Luna explained as Demelza instructed her to lean against the wall. "They call me Loony Lovegood."

"But you're not loony," the stud insisted. "You're the coolest person I've ever met. And, to tell the truth, not too many people have been very kind to me, either. I guess they also consider me a bit of a weirdo. But you treat me like I'm totally normal."

"It's because you are," Luna said, wide-eyed, as he positioned his naked body against hers. "Just like me. It's everyone else who are the weird ones."

* * *

McGonagall was in her office at midnight looking through the photos of the last staff party when an owl tapped against the window. She let the owl in, then closed the window quickly to cut off the gust of icy winter air. The letter read as thus:

_Dear Professor McGonagall:_

_I am the mother of Lavender Brown. A need has arisen in the family. I cannot tell you what this need is, but it is urgent. Simply give Lavender this letter, and she'll know what it is about. For reasons best left unexplained, the owl cannot deliver the message directly to her. So I cordially ask that you make sure Lavender gets this message immediately. It may reach you at midnight, but Lavender will not mind being wakened in the middle of the night once she sees this. Please keep this confidential._

_Sincerely,_

_Mrs. Brown_

McGonagall raised her eyebrows at the cryptic note. But she complied to its instructions and left her office to find Lavender.

She reached the Fat Lady two minutes later and gave the password. "Scarlet Is Not Necessarily a Shade of Crimson," she said, shaking her head at the long and complicated phrase, and the Fat Lady swung aside to let her in.

A barrage of noise hit her full force as she entered the common room. It was so loud that she stumbled back against the portrait hole and stared at the room in horror.

The room was filled with more boys than she knew Gryffindor even had. Then she realized that these boys weren't only from her house, but from Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin as well. And they were all wide awake and full of energy. The walls were covered in magnificent hand-drawn banners of Scarlett, most of them featuring her naked and pressed up against various members of the Hogwarts population.

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!?" she shrieked. The commotion died down, and the boys stared at her, their faces filled with horror. "IT'S PAST MIDNIGHT! THIS IS RIDICULOUS! THOMAS, TAKE DOWN THOSE SILLY BANNERS! GRYFFINDORS, CLEAN EVERYTHING UP AND GET TO BED! EVERYONE ELSE, GET BACK TO YOUR COMMON ROOM IN FIFTEEN MINUTES, OR IT'S A WEEK OF DETENTIONS!"

And that was that. The boys scurried to comply with her demands. She herself strode through the crowd (and purposefully trampled on four magazine on the way) and disappeared up the stairs to the girls' dormitories.

She reached the sixth year dormitory a minute and saw that light still spilled from beneath the crack under the door. She even heard a voice on the other side: ". . . and she barely looked over the test before she gave me an O! I know it was underhanded of me, but I was overjoyed!"

McGonagall knocked thrice on the door. She heard a flurried rush inside before the door opened. "Miss Weasley?" McGonagall said in surprise as she saw the redhead's head poking out from between the door and the doorframe. "Isn't this the 6th year girls' dormitory?"

"I was helping Hermione clean up," Ginny said, opening the door a crack wider. McGonagall pushed her way into the room.

"Yes, this room certainly needs it," McGonagall remarked dryly as she surveyed the landscape of old, used parchment that stretched across the floor. It was, unexplainably, in neat little squares, as if the two girls had laid it down as an unconventionally artsy rug.

"Did you need something, Professor?" Hermione asked her.

"Is Miss Brown here?" McGonagall asked her.

"No," Hermione said as she and Ginny suppressed a shared laugh. "All the girls are in the Room of Requirement right now."

"What?" McGonagall said, taken aback. "It's three hours past curfew! What in Merlin's name are they doing?"

"I don't know," Hermione said, her giggles almost getting the best of her. "I guess you'll see once you get there."

"Okay, then," McGonagall said, raising her eyebrows. "Thank you."

"No problem," Hermione managed to say.

McGonagall left the messy dormitory a moment later. As she closed the door she heard the two girls break out in peals of laughter. _There's something strange going on here_, she told herself as she made her way back down the spiral staircase to the common room. _And I intend to find out what it is_.

She reached the Room of Requirement ten minutes later and let herself into the large assembly that the room had turned itself into. The place was entirely empty. "Granger hasn't been having me on, has she?" McGonagall muttered in shock. "No, she wouldn't do something like that. Maybe she made a mistake; the girls must be somewhere else."

And she was about to turn around and walk out of the Room of Requirement when she saw the door on the far wall. Her furrowed brow pinched in even farther as she made her way to that door, her shoes clicking in echoes across the empty room.

She threw the door open wide. For a moment she saw nothing—just a row of empty stalls and a pile of clothing. Then she traveled past the corner and immediately screamed in pure shock.

She was in the middle of a huge photo shoot with unbelievably elaborate sets and a huge crowd of Hogwarts girls and strange boys.

Every single one of them was stark naked.

The models, who were posing in the lewdest positions imaginable, were naked. The set artists were naked. Even the photographers and the directors had gotten in the mood of things and shed their clothes. McGonagall had never seen such an array of glistening private parts, both male and female, in her entire life. And they were absolutely everywhere.

She screamed again, this time much longer and louder than before. And this time the crowd fell silent and stared at her.

"WHAT THE F—" McGonagall barely stopped herself and started over. "WHAT IN MERLIN'S NAME ARE YOU DOING?!?! ARE YOU PEOPLE RUNNING A WHOREHOUSE??"

Nobody said a word.

"_**WELL?!?!?"**_

"It's a photo shoot," Luna piped up helpfully from the back of the set, where she and her stud posed calmly on a bed as a naked Demelza stared in horror at McGonagall. "It's for our newsletter."

McGonagall swelled in anger. "AND WHO IN _HELL _ARE THESE MEN?" Oops, she hadn't meant to swear.

"They're helping us," Luna said sweetly. "Isn't that nice of them?"

"NO, IT'S NOT!!!" McGonagall shrieked.

"It's okay, Professor," Luna said, giggling as she shifted her position under her stud, who was sitting on top of her. "We're not having sex. There may be a few erections around here, as I'm sure you've noticed, but there's been no penetration. 'Show, but don't blow,' as I'd put it. No one's lost their virginity during this little activity."

McGonagall's face was purple. _"LITTLE ACTIVITY?!?!" _she yelled. "EVERY SINGLE GIRL IN HERE IS GETTING A WEEK'S WORTH OF DETENTIONS. AND NONE OF YOU ARE GOING TO HOGSMEADE THIS SATURDAY!! AND IF ANY OF YOU BOYS EVER APPEAR AT HOGWARTS AGAIN, I'M PRESSING CHARGES FOR STATUTORY RAPE!"

"Hey, that's no fair!" George put in indignantly. "We came in on the girls' orders!"

"I DON'T GIVE A F—A FLIP!" McGonagall once again barely managed to stop herself from swearing. "EVERY SINGLE BOY IN HERE WILL LEAVE HOGWARTS IMMEDIATELY! AND EVERY SINGLE GIRL IN HERE WILL PUT HER CLOTHES ON AND LET ME TAKE DOWN HER NAME!! I HAVE HALF A MIND TO EXPEL EACH ONE OF YOU RIGHT NOW!"

The girls and studs numbly began putting their clothes on, realizing that their photo shoot was ruined.

"And don't you even _think_ of releasing these photos!" McGonagall hissed furiously at Lavender, Parvati, Daphne, Romilda, and Pansy.

"_Fuck," _Pansy whispered so that McGonagall couldn't hear her. "Bloody shit wanker. An entire photo

shoot wasted!"

Then the girls lined up, fully dressed, and let McGonagall take down their names as they left the room. The boys slipped past McGonagall with their faces averted.

The only two people that seemed to take this all in stride were Luna and her stud.

"The fun's over," Luna said in mild disappointment.

"Do you think we'll ever get to do this again?" her stud asked. He still hadn't moved from his position.

But Luna didn't answer. She stared up at him with her wide eyes, obviously thinking hard. Then she said at last, "You know, this is strange."

"Is it?" the stud said. "We've been doing this for the past four hours."

"No, I mean this particular position is strange," Luna persisted. "You see, there are these invisible insects that are native to Singapore, normally called promisks. They enter a boy's and girl's heads and makes them get naked. Then they get into this very position. Then the boy asks the girl out on a date."

The stud seemed to have lost his ability of speech. He shifted ever so slightly before he cleared his throat. "So your name is. . ."

"Luna Lovegood," Luna said. "And yours?"

"David Banksbur," he said. "So, Luna. . . d'you want to go out on a date?"

Luna smiled. "I knew that the promisks got to us. Sure, I'll go out with you. We can meet at Hogsmeade this weekend."

"But McGonagall just said that none of you are going to Hogsmeade," David said. He shifted position again so that he was no longer teabagging her stomach.

Luna giggled. "Don't be silly. I'll just ask Harry Potter about the best secret passage out of this school, and I'll meet you at the Three Broomsticks at noon."

David grinned. "Sounds like a good plan," he said. "I'll see you on Saturday. Until then, don't let the filly-bugs get to you."

"Same to you," Luna said. And David walked back to the waterfall set to find his clothes. He found them and picked them up, then walked right past McGonagall completely naked. Her eyes bugged in their sockets.

Luna watched David go with a grin wider than her normal serene smile. "This photo shoot was entirely worth it," she said to herself, then stood up to find her own clothes.

----------

Scarlett finished off this eventful night by sending off four notes:

_Dear Zacharias,_

_It appears that I have no prior engagement on the 18th. How would you like to meet at the Three Broomsticks at noon?_

_Love,_

_Scarlett_

_

* * *

Dear Vincent,_

_It appears that I have no prior engagement on the 18th. How would you like to meet at the Three Broomsticks at noon?_

_Love,_

_Scarlett_

_

* * *

Dear Draco,_

_It appears that I have no prior engagement on the 18th. How would you like to meet at the Three Broomsticks at noon?_

_Love,_

_Scarlett_

_

* * *

Dear Gregory,_

_I think it is now time to let people know about our relationship. I have asked Malfoy, Crabbe, and Zacharias Smith to meet me at the Three Broomsticks at noon of the 18th. And I ask you to do the same. When I get there, I will take you by the arm, and we will ignore the others as we sweep past them. How does that sound?_

_I love you more than anyone else in the world._

_Your Dear Scarlett_

**A/N: **Okay, if you've gotten this far then you obviously like the story. So I now feel it's time to make a confession. . .

This is my first comedy. Ever. I've written over 50 works, including five original novels, many shorter chaptered works, and quite a handful of one-shot fanfics. They may have had funny parts, but none of them were comedies. If you want a more accurate picture of my normal writing style/subject choice, reading "Their Neverending Reflection" or "On Making Friends," which are possibly the most accurate representations of the style in my original works. Then again, I've had such a blast writing this fic that I am very likely to return to comedy sometime else in my life—if not in fanfiction, then definitely in my own original works.

Oh, and everybody needs to read _A Clockwork Orange_, then watch the movie (make sure it's in that order, because you might not "get" the movie otherwise). If you don't do so within the next year, you're seriously depriving yourself. The book is my 3rd favorite of all time (JUST BARELY behind HP and "A Series of Unfortunate Events"), and the movie is my absolute favorite of all time. Most of you guys reading this are probably mature enough to watch it, so don't you dare put it off!

Next chapter: Luna reads poop lumps (yes, you read that correctly). Gregory has a plan to cheer up Draco. Gregory also has a bit more trouble with Pansy. Oh, and the LONG-AWAITED HOGSMEADE DATE finally happens! It isn't as long as this chapter, so you guys won't have to wait as long. Please keep posted, and review, because I answer every single review!


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Yes, I'm back again, this time with the 6th chapter of _The Scarlett Letter_. This isn't even half the length of Chapter 5, but I posted it more quickly, so I don't have to apologize. I don't think any fanfiction author should apologize for a short chapter (unless it took them three months to post), simply for the fact that some chapters will be long and some will be short, and that's just the way it goes.

Oh, and one reviewer pointed out that the British _A Clockwork Orange_ doesn't have a glossary. Just pretend like they got an American edition, er, somehow. :p That edition doesn't have the 21st chapter, either, and (just like Kubrick) I like it better that way. I looked it up online (being in America myself), and while it was good, it sort of squelched some of the open-ended moral discussion that the story elicits without it.

Anyway, enough rambling. On with _The Scarlett Letter_!

Disclaimer: If I get the rights to this, I'll be the first to tell you. Until then. . .

**Chapter Six**

**Standing Up**

_Dear Scarlett,_

_Heck yes, I'll be there! Saturday is the day I've been looking forward to more than any other in my entire life! You're the greatest!_

_With all my love,_

_Zacharias  
_

* * *

_Dear Scarlett,_

_You bet I'll be there! I can't wait to meet you!_

_Love,_

_Vincent  
_

* * *

_Dear Scarlett,_

_Sure, I'll be there. Thanks for the offer._

_Yours truly,_

_Draco  
_

* * *

_Dearest Scarlett,_

_I love you so very much. I about cried with joy when I read this. This is our chance to show everyone how much we love each other. I will most definitely be there, my love._

_Oh, and can you please send me a new copy of your 4th issue? Only I came over the last one during Transfiguration class, and McGonagall took it away._

_From the one who loves you with an undying adoration,_

_Gregory_

----------

Professor McGonagall called for an extra staff meeting on Friday afternoon. So at 3:30 the Hogwarts professors stumbled into the staff room, nearly brain-dead at the end of the school week. Flitwick looked especially hard-done-by, and he slumped into the seat next to McGonagall with a look of defeat saturating his features.

With the arrival of Dumbledore, the meeting began. McGonagall straightened herself in her chair and began speaking. "I called this staff meeting today so that we may once again discuss the problem that has been threatening our school for the past two weeks."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Which problem would this be?" he asked calmly as a forebodingly mischievous twinkle sparked in his eyes. "I suspect it has to deal with Roger Davies' consistent request that we buy new school brooms? I suppose that is serious enough to call an emergency staff meeting."

McGonagall's nostrils flared. She considered replying with a scathing comment, but controlled this errant urge and answered in a voice of fading patience, "That is not why we are meeting her today. Our problem is with Scarlett. She is a menace to this entire school!"

"Oh, dear," Dumbledore said. "That's nearly as bad as our current broom situation."

McGonagall nearly lost her patience again, but managed to steady her voice as she said firmly, "She should have never made her way into this school in the first place!"

"What has she done _this_ time?" Madam Pomfrey asked hesitantly.

"She has sent her demons to possess this entire student body!" McGonagall said. "And now all our students have gone crazy!"

"My dear Minnie, I do believe you're exaggerating," Dumbledore said lightly.

"Oh, am I?" McGonagall said coldly. "Then how do you explain the fact that the _entire _female population of this school is serving their first day of a week-long detention with Filch BECAUSE THEY DID A MERLINFRIGGING NUDE PHOTO SHOOT!?!"

Dumbledore decided to let her creative expletive slide and instead corrected her. "Not _all_ the girls are in detention," he pointed out. "Miss Weasley and Miss Granger escaped completely unscathed."

"You know what I mean!" McGonagall barked furiously.

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. "Hmmm. Yes, most unfortunate. Is this an, er, isolated incident?"

"Isolated?" McGonagall shrieked, "ISOLATED?! You don't want to know what Goyle did in my class yesterday!"

"Yes, I do," Dumbledore said calmly.

McGonagall cringed. She had planned on taking Goyle directly to Dumbledore after the embarrassing incident in Transfiguration, but the headmaster had been in a very important meeting with the school governors as the time. And now that the incident had passed, she suddenly didn't feel like relating it in front of the whole staff.

"Yes, I do," Dumbledore repeated, his tone prompting McGonagall to reply.

"No, you don't," McGonagall rejoined.

"But I do!" Dumbledore said, smiling even wider. "Please tell the truth."

"Okay, you_ do_ want to know, you sick old man!" McGonagall snarled.

"That's better," Dumbledore said pleasantly. "So. . . what did Goyle do?"

McGonagall mouthed at him for moment, looking remarkably like a goldfish. Then she gasped out, "It was something _very_ disgusting which doesn't bear repeating."

"But I need to know," Dumbledore said. "How can I correctly gauge the seriousness of this situation if I don't know what's happened?"

McGonagall ground her teeth together. Why did Dumbledore have to be so nosy? "Okay, he did. . . something with his magazine."

". . . something with his magazine," Dumbledore repeated. "And what do you mean by 'something'?"

"I mean something very gross!" McGonagall retorted.

"Which would be. . ."

"HE CAME OVER THE FRIGGING THING, FOR MERLIN'S SAKE!" McGonagall cried out at last. Then she huffed and sank back into her chair.

The teachers giggled. Dumbledore didn't bother to hide a smile. McGonagall fumed in silent fury.

"So what do you propose we do?" Dumbledore said.

"We stop this whole business," McGonagall said cantankerously. "We ban the newsletter and punish anyone who reads it."

"But we already agreed that wouldn't work," Dumbledore pointed out. "You'll have to think of something else."

"You mean _we'll_ have to think of something else!" McGonagall said furiously. "I shouldn't have to do this by myself!"

Dumbledore neither agreed nor disagreed with her correction, but waited for her to make another suggestion.

Which she did after a moment of thought. "We'll write Scarlett," she said at last. "And we'll tell her to stop send her newsletter to Hogwarts."

"That sounds more reasonable," Dumbledore said. "You will write the letter, then run it past me so I can make sure that it's appropriate to send to Scarlett. We are not allowed to threaten her; she is only an artist trying to scrape out a living, even if she has a rather unconservative method of achieving this goal."

McGonagall snorted with disgust, but agreed grudgingly to Dumbledore's terms. Then she sank back into her chair as the rest of the teachers left. . .

All the teachers except for one other.

Flitwick remained in his seat with his head in his hands. Curiosity slowly dispelled McGonagall's anger, and she leaned forward in her seat to get a better look at the tiny Charms professor. It looked like he was crying.

"Is something the matter, Filius?" she said at last.

"Yes," he mumbled brokenly in his arm. "Verity hates me."

"But why?" McGonagall asked him. She leaned closer to him.

"Because I asked her out," Flitwick replied.

"Because you asked her out," McGonagall repeated. "She hates you because you asked her out?"

Flitwick gave a dry sob before he admitted, ". . . Because I asked her out one too many times."

"Oh," McGonagall said. "Oh. Well, I'm sure she doesn't _hate_ you. She's just. . . annoyed. It'll be okay." And she patted him comfortingly on the shoulder. And she rubbed him on the back. And she stayed with him for another fifteen minutes to offer him condolence over his failure. She wished it could have been longer, but she had left off her grading for far too long as it was.

----------

Meanwhile, the girls were not having a fun Friday afternoon. McGonagall had given Filch dominion over the entire lot of them, much to his eternal delight. He had now gone into a frenzy and was determined to clean the entire castle from top to bottom before the week of detentions ended. Which was why every girl in Hogwarts was spread across its entirety, burdened with a broom, a mop, a rag, or some other cleaning supply.

Pansy, Parvati, Romilda, Eloise, and Luna were unlucky enough to be assigned a particularly nasty dungeon. Pansy was in charge of the mop, Parvati and Romilda held scrubbing brushes, and Luna and Eloise collected the refuse and rinsed everything away.

"What in the world lived in here?" Parvati complained as she slathered Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover across the wall.

"Whatever it was, it left behind a load of shit," Eloise said as she scooped some into the Bottomless Trash Bag she held in her hands. "This is disgusting."

"Urg," Pansy moaned. "This is humiliating! I'm a student, not a servant!"

"Doesn't make any difference to Filch," Parvati pointed out sourly. "I'm sure he'd much rather nail us to the wall if he had his own sick way."

"No doubt," Romilda sighed. "Ugh, McGonagall has a cruel streak almost as bad as Filch. . . which is probably why she assigned us to him."

"At least it's during the afternoon," Luna commented mildly. "So we can still have fun this evening. You said the Slytherins were having a party tonight, Pansy, didn't you?"

"Yes," Pansy said glumly. "But it's still no fair! _Nothing _is going right for us! We didn't even release the frigging pictures! But Scarlett still got to release the fifth issue of her stupid newsletter. The whore."

"I know!" Eloise complained. "I had this really good photo of me where one of those studs was kissing me is such a position that he was hiding all my pimples. It was really sweet, and I actually looked good in it!"

"Don't worry, you look beautiful all the time," Romilda assured her. "You took a boy up to the Astronomy Tower, didn't you? You were talking about it last week."

"Yes," Eloise admitted. "That's true. But maybe it's only because I have good breasts."

"It could also be your vibrant personality," Luna bolstered mildly. "You are truly a charm when you aren't worrying over something."

"Thank you," Eloise said, giving Luna a pathetic smile. Then she wrinkled her nose as she gathered up another mound of poop and scooped it into the bag.

"So who was the boy?" Romilda asked the pimply Hufflepuff.

"Oh, just someone," Eloise replied airily.

"One-night stand?" Parvati said, quirking her eyebrows.

"No, I'm still meeting him," Eloise said evasively.

"Two-night stand?" Parvati pressed.

"No, it's not like that!" Eloise said quickly. "We're together, sort of."

"Then who is it?" Parvati said, fully engrossed. Pansy even looked up from her blackened mop and listened curiously.

"Oh, it's no one," Eloise said quickly. "Actually, he's not _no one_. He's a person. But he's a secret. In fact, he's going out on a date this Saturday at Hogsmeade, because we still aren't, er, official."

"He doesn't have to be a secret," Parvati said with a disarming smile.

"I don't know. . ." Eloise said slowly. She looked truly unwilling to reveal the name of her unofficial boyfriend. "You guys might think it a bit. . ."

"A bit what?" Parvati said disarmingly. "Don't worry, we won't mind."

"Look!" Luna suddenly cried. The other girls jumped and stared. "It's a shape in that lump of poop at your feet, Pansy! It looks like. . . like a boy."

"A boy?" Pansy asked her. "What in the world is that supposed to mean?"

"No, it's a boy standing on a sock," Luna continued. "Isn't that strange?"

Eloise leaned forward eagerly, glad to have escaped the last thread of conversation. Pansy stared down at her feet. "I don't see anything," she said after a moment.

"The boy looks like. . . it can't be Draco, can it?"

"Ugh, let's not talk about that churl," Parvati said.

"I agree with her," Pansy said sourly, and pushed her mop towards the pile of poop.

"No, wait!" Luna cried out as she stayed the Slytherin's arm. "It's that other one—Goyle. Okay, that's all I see. You can mop it up now."

"So it was Goyle standing on a sock," Pansy said patiently as she wiped away the mound of defecation.

"I know," Luna said. "Isn't that strange? I wonder what it means?"

"Ooo, is this like Divination?" Parvati said eagerly. "I've never heard of reading poop lumps, but maybe there's something in it. It could be a bit like tea leaves."

Luna crossed over to another splotch of poop. "I see a woman in this one," she said. "And there's a money bag next her, then a man on the other side."

"A woman stands for grace and gentleness," Parvati told her, "and a man represents strength and integrity. The money bag is a windfall. So it obviously means that you'll do something graceful and gentle that'll get you a lot of money. Then because of it, you'll become strong and honest."

"No, I don't think that's it," Luna corrected her serenely. "It's much simpler. The woman represents Scarlett, and she's stealing money from a man."

"Ha!" Pansy said in disgust. "You don't need Divination to figure _that_ out! How much did she say she got, Parvati?"

"She said he newsletter has earned her 100,000 galleons," Parvati said bitterly. "She splashed it across the second page of her newsletter, the braggart." And she scrubbed away the splotch that stood in front of Luna.

"Wait, there's one last poop pile over here," Luna said eagerly. "And. . . wow. I swear that's a veilabat. See, those bits of blood-flecked carrot look a bit like a red bikini, even. You know that veilabats make men fall for them, then throw them away. Some man is obviously going to be betrayed by the woman he loves. Isn't that strange. . ."

And she scooped up the pile and dropped it into Eloise's trash bag.

----------

Gregory himself had detention with McGonagall that afternoon for his incident in her Transfiguration class. She made him scrape the gum off the bottom of all the desks without magic. Then he had to clean the desktops and disinfect them. McGonagall wanted to see her reflection in the desks. But, since they were made of wood, it took two hours before McGonagall approved of his effort.

Gregory left the classroom in a hurry, eager to get back to the common room. The Slytherins were having a

party tonight, and he planned on having fun. Maybe he could hook Draco up with another girl. God knows

Draco had been very dour ever since his break-up with Pansy.

No, wait. . . Draco was dour since _before_ he broke up with Pansy.

Inspiration hit Gregory like an uncommon flash of lightning. _Maybe he's in love with someone else! Wow, that's so cool! I have to figure out who it is._

It was 6:30. The party was in half-an-hour. Gregory headed down to the Great Hall for a light dinner, and as he reached the Slytherin table he saw that Draco sat all alone, staring moodily at his plate of roast lamb and asparagus. If anyone looked depressed, it was definitely Draco.

Gregory took a seat beside his friend. "Hey, Draco," he greeted, "how's it going, mate?"

"_Wonderful_," Draco answered sarcastically. "Can't you see my smile?"

"No," Gregory said, a bit slow on the uptake. "You aren't smiling."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Draco said dully, slumping even farther into his food. "Now go ahead and rub it in."

"Why would I do that?" Gregory said. "You're depressed. What's the use of depressing you even more?"

"Geez, you really know how to comfort a guy," Draco said moodily.

"I have it all figured out," Gregory said, ignoring this last comment as he scooped himself a generous portion of shepherd's pie. "You are in love with somebody."

"Hell no," Draco said, though without any feeling. He glanced over at Pansy and Daphne, then at the Gryffindor table.

"And I'm going to figure out. . . going to figure out who it is. . ." Gregory said, his voice trailing off. He had seen Draco glancing at Pansy and Daphne. At first he thought his friend was looking at his ex-girlfriend, but then he realized something—

Draco must have been looking at Daphne!

_Draco's in love with Daphne!_ Gregory told himself. _I knew it!_ Actually, he hadn't, but he still wanted to give himself some sort of congratulatory comment.

_But I'd better not push it right now_, Gregory told himself. _I'll wait for a little bit. Like until the party. I have a wonderful plan! But to pull it off, I'll need someone's help—a girl's help!_

And, after a quick dinner, he skipped off happily to the common room, perfecting his plot in his head. He reached his dormitories at 7:00 and promptly began rooting through Draco's trunk. After five minutes he found what he was looking for. Then he went into the bathroom and prepared for the party.

After straightening his robes, washing his face, and combing his hair, Gregory was ready for the party. He left his dormitories and entered the Slytherin common room. The place was bedecked with green and silver banners. Five tables had been pulled together to hold the food and drinks. A large punch bowl in the center of the spread let out sparks from its shimmering turquoise surface. On a large coffee table a group of second-year Slytherins were playing Exploding Snap. On the other side of the room the older kids had taken their own pack of Exploding Snap cards and were gambling. Half of them were cheating.

"Looks promising, doesn't it?" Pansy said as she appeared at Gregory's shoulder. She wore a sleeveless top with a V-neckline that jutted down into her ample cleavage. Her pants looked silky and smooth, and they molded themselves against her legs in a most flattering manner. She had given her smooth black hair a slight curl, and it spilled over her shoulder in a lustrous river.

_Wow, she's hot_, Gregory thought as he stared rather openly at her breasts. "Yeah, it looks promising," he rasped. _But wait—I love Scarlett! I'm not supposed to be looking at Pansy!_

But Pansy didn't seem to mind that Gregory was ogling her. In fact, she seemed quite pleased with herself; a trace of a smile curved her soft lips.

"Pansy?" Gregory said, shaking his head to clear it of lustful thoughts. _Remember Scarlett_, he told himself. _Remember Scarlett. She's the love of my life._ "Pansy, I need help with something."

"Sure," Pansy said, a little suggestively.

"I—I need some photos of Daphne."

"What?" Pansy took a step away from him, her smile gone. She looked none too pleased.

"It's for a plan I have," Gregory explained. "You see, Draco is madly in love with Daphne."

"What?" Pansy repeated, now looking merely confused. "That's news to me."

"I just figured it out," Gregory said. "But Draco's obviously been pining after her. He's so depressed nowadays, if you haven't noticed. And I'd rather see him happy again. So I'm hooking the two of them up."

"Oh," Pansy said. "Oh. Okay. Um. . . so why do you need photos of Daphne?"

"To show to Draco," Gregory said. "See, I have a bunch of photos of his here with me now—" he pulled out a small stack and handed it to Pansy—"and I plan on showing them to Daphne."

"Wow, he's half-naked it most of these pictures," Pansy said, raising her eyebrows.

"Oh, those are the pictures he took that he didn't send to Scarlett," Gregory said. "He keeps up the appearance of liking her, but I get the feeling he couldn't care less. He's obviously madly in love with someone else, which just happens to be Daphne."

"Hmmmm," Pansy said. She was still very mad at Draco for breaking up with her like he did, but she thought that maybe it was time to get over it. And to prove that she no longer cared about him: "I'll help you. I have some great pics of Daphne that'll blow his socks off."

And she swept off towards her dormitory. Gregory's gaze glued itself to her bum as she disappeared from sight. Gosh, she had a hot bum! _No, I love Scarlett!_ Gregory told himself sternly. _She has a hot bum. I have a date with it tomorrow. I can't let other girls have any effect on me! I love Scarlett. I love Scarlett._ _I love Scarlett. _And on the mantra went.

Pansy returned ten minutes later with a handful of photographs. Most of them showed Daphne at the beach in a bikini. The others showed her in a variety of revealing dresses at a variety of black-tie events.

"Wow, these are perfect," Gregory said. "I'll make sure he sees them."

"Wait, we can't rush into this," Pansy said quickly. "We're Slytherins; we have to plan this out perfectly."

"I thought I did have it planned out perfectly," Gregory said, a bit put off at the comment.

"Maybe you did," Pansy said, "but you also need to consider execution. If you go about it the wrong way, even a perfect plan can become a disaster."

"Okay, okay," Gregory said quickly, a bit peeved. "So when do we make our move?"

"Let's soften them up a bit first," Pansy said. She dragged Gregory off to the punch bowl. Then, reaching under the table, she pulled out a large jug of Firewhisky. "I was planning on spiking the drinks anyway," she said as she uncorked the jug and emptied it into the bowl. When the last wave of whisky glugged into the punch, she pulled out another jug of alcohol and poured it into the punch bowl as well. She reached down for a third jug when Gregory stopped her.

"That's enough," he said. "You don't want them stumbling all over each other."

Pansy relented and put the last jug of Firewhisky back under the table. "Then we're ready. You take some punch to Draco and I'll take some to Daphne. Then, once they're relaxed, we'll show them the pictures."

"Perfect," Gregory said. "Thanks." And he filled two cups with punch—one for Draco and one for himself—then took the photos of Daphne from Pansy. He headed over to a couch by the fire, where Draco sat amongst a group of fifth- and sixth-year Slytherins.

"Hey, Drac," Gregory said. "I got us some punch."

"Wicked," Draco said, taking the goblet from Gregory with both hands. He sipped it gently as he stared into the fire. Gregory sat beside him and began drinking his own punch. On the other side of the room he saw Pansy talking with Daphne. The latter was drinking the spiked punch, just as Gregory and Pansy had planned.

After a few minutes Draco seemed to relax. In fact, he was almost smiling. "Can you get me another glass of punch, Gregory?" he asked.

"Sure," his friend replied. "I'll be only a moment."

And he skipped happily off to the punch. He met Pansy at the rim of the bowl, and they both dipped their cups into the blue liquid. "How's it going so far?" Pansy asked Gregory in a whisper.

"Great," Gregory replied. "He seems almost cheerful, which is saying a lot, considering the past few days."

"Daphne's loosening up, too," she said. "This second glass should be enough for her. You might want to get Malfoy a third glass, though."

"Okay," Gregory said. But instead he simply took a large cup and filled it to the brim. He considered keeping his own cup, but then discarded it for one like Malfoy's. When both glass were full, he took them back to the table.

"You're the best, mate," Draco said with a bit of a laugh as he began gulping down his next glass of punch. "You know, you were right."

"About what?" Gregory said.

"About me being in love," he said. "'Cause I am."

Gregory just smiled.

"But I'm not going to tell you who it is," Draco said, "because it's a secret. A big, big secret. She'd never go out with me."

"I wouldn't be too sure," Gregory said with a smile. "Life is full of surprises."

Draco finished his punch a moment later. Deciding that his friend was sufficiently tipsy, Gregory pulled out the photos of Daphne. "Hey, Drac, look at these," he said.

Draco took the pictures and looked at them. For quite some time he was silent as he examined the photos. Then he looked up. "They're good," he said, his words slurring just a tiny bit. "Great, in fact. Where'd you get 'em?"

Gregory smiled a secret smile. "I have my connections," he said mysteriously. He looked across the room and saw Daphne gazing at the photos of Malfoy.

"Perhaps you should go talk to her," Gregory suggested.

"Not when Pansy's around!" Draco insisted, lodging himself deeper into his armchair.

"Don't worry, Pansy's getting up right now," Gregory said. "See? She's going to the gambling table near the entrance to the boy's dormitory." And indeed she was. She was also signaling to Gregory, her face split in a smile.

Gregory stood up and left Malfoy. He then hastened over to Pansy and said, "Was it a success, then?"

"Yes!" she said happily. "Daphne loves the pictures. See, she's getting up to talk to Draco now."

"We did it!" Gregory said, pleased with himself. "Now that Draco has his girl, he won't be depressed anymore!"

Pansy smiled sadly as she watched Daphne speak to Malfoy in the middle of the room. "I wish I had my own man," she said softly, looking up at Gregory.

"What?" Gregory said, looking back at her.

And Pansy leaned up and kissed him on the lips. Gregory's heart stopped beating and didn't start again until they drew away from each other.

_No! I love Scarlett!_ Gregory told himself sternly. Then he leaned forward and pressed his lips against Pansy's. She responded with an even greater fervor, and she pulled him away from the gambling table and down into hallway of the boys' dormitories.

_I'm in love with Scarlett!_ Gregory cried out to himself as his tongue traced Pansy's jawbone. _I'm in love with Scarlett!!_ They stumbled past Blaise, who was currently entwined around a tiny third-year. Then Pansy and Gregory were in his dormitory.

_I'M IN LOVE WITH SCARLETT!!!_ Gregory cried out in his head. His lips found the cusp of Pansy's shoulder as his hands traced her waistline. She let out a moan of delight and let her own hands run themselves across his chest.

_NO! I LOVE SCARLETT!! I LOVE HER!!_ Pansy reached forward and pushed Gregory's robes from his shoulders, where they floated into the darkness. Gregory pushed the straps on her shirt from her shoulder.

_No. . . I love Scarlett. . . I love Scarlett. . . I love. . ._ And he could no longer hear the voice in his head. Maybe it was the Firewhisky clouding his sense, but his brain stopped its protest. In fact, his brain seemed to have dropped from his head and into his groin. Strange how these things happened. . .

Pansy unbuttoned Gregory's shirt and pushed it from his body. He let it slide to the ground as he worked her shirt off her breasts. He gave a gasp of pure lust as they spilled into his hands.

Their shoes and socks flung themselves in the darkness a moment later as they furiously tried to strip each other of their pants. Gregory buried his face into her cleavage as his fingers worked blindly at her zipper. It came undone, and he pushed the silk from her legs. She removed his pants and boxers in one go, and soon the two of them lay sunk against the floor, both naked.

Gregory then pulled her in for an open-mouthed kiss as they stumbled towards his bed. They gasped against each other as they allowed their bare skin to meld together. Gregory's mind was reeling; he had totally forgotten Draco and Daphne. . . and Scarlett.

Then it happened. Just as they reached the foot of Gregory's bed, he slipped on a sock. The second the cloth came in contact with his skin, he gave a tremendous heave, and a wave of vomit hurled itself up his throat and into Pansy's mouth.

Pansy screamed through the mouthful of throw-up. "EWWWW!" she cried as the chunks fell from her teeth. She herself suddenly became weak in the stomach at the taste of Gregory's vomit. "WHAT DID YOU DO?!" she screamed through a mouthful of clumps.

"NOTH—" Another wave of vomit interrupted his words—"NOTHING!" He was crying. What had happened? One second they were kissing each other; now they stood five feet apart from each other, both splattered in chunky barf. Where had it all gone wrong?

Gregory's crying became a wail, then a bawl. Why did this have to happen? _WHY?_ Pansy was still spitting chunks from her mouth when he flung himself on his bed and beat his fists into his blanket as he vomited. He hated whatever fate had cursed him with such bad luck. Here he was about to get laid for the first time in his life, then an upchuck attack had to come along and ruin it all.

By the time Gregory looked up Pansy was gone. He sat alone in his room, naked in the midst of a small, discolored river that poured from his mouth and down his bed. Then Gregory saw the puce sock.

"**_FUCK YOU, VINCENT!!!!"_** He shrieked at the top of his lungs. His words filled rapidly with another mouthful of vomit. Tears poured in rivers down his face and into the chunks that spewed from his mouth. An unbearably long string of lumpy mucous hung from each nostril and grew longer all the time.

Then his head sunk into his hands. He realized now what the vomit meant. It wasn't a hex mingled with bad luck; it was a sign.

"I'm sorry, Scarlett," he whispered as throw-up streamed from his lips. "I'm so sorry. I've failed you."

----------

Gregory awoke on Saturday morning, however, with a fresh resolve. He had nearly had sex with Pansy the night before—_nearly._ But it hadn't actually happened, and it wouldn't happen again. From now on he'd take advantage of this second chance to remember that he belonged to Scarlett. And that would be that.

Having figured all this out, Gregory was quite looking forward to his date at Hogsmeade with his one true love. He dressed with particular care that morning. He put on his best shirt and a pair of dark pants. Then he pulled a scarlet jumper over his head and secured his midnight-black cloak firmly around his person. Then he wrapped a scarf around his neck to match his jumper. Afterward he spent half-an-hour taking care of his hair, only to cover it up with a silver snowcap and earmuffs. Then, after reviewing his appearance one last time, he left his dormitory.

Butterflies had already taken lodging in his stomach when he reached the Slytherin table in the Great Hall for breakfast. But he felt optimistic all the same as he scooped two fried eggs, two pieces of buttered toast, and four link sausages onto his plate. This was his day with Scarlett, and nothing would mess it up.

He couldn't help noticing that Vincent, Draco, and Zacharias Smith also looked jittery and excited. They, too, were eagerly looking forward to their date with Scarlett. For a moment Gregory felt sorry for them, but he quickly pushed the feeling to the back of his mind. Scarlett loved _him_, not them. Draco, Vincent, and Zacharias didn't matter to her; Gregory was the only one in her eyes.

By golly, he'd live up to that or die trying.

At 10:00 that morning the students began the walk to Hogsmeade. It had started snowing early in the day, and the snowflakes were large and biting. The wind was strong and icy against Gregory's skin, but he pressed on, knowing what lay ahead at the Three Broomsticks.

Gregory had nearly two hours of free time before his date. He spent only thirty minutes at Zonko's, however, before heading to the Three Broomsticks. And there he stood, waiting in the cold for his true love, Scarlett. He hardly noticed the wind and snow; the warmth in his heart spread throughout his entire body and kept the icy elements completely from his thoughts.

Long about 11:30 Vincent arrived at the Three Broomsticks. Zacharias came along at 11:45, and Draco appeared two minutes before noon. None of the four boys did much talking as they waited for their date. Gregory couldn't help but smile. Scarlett was going to ignore his friends and take him into the pub, leaving the other three boys behind in the freezing cold.

Twelve o'clock arrived. Luna came by with a stunningly handsome, brown-haired young man, and she kissed him playfully on the cheek before they headed into the warm pub for a meal and some butterbeer.

Five minutes passed. Vincent and Zacharias began looking worried. Draco began tapping his foot impatiently in the newly-fallen snow. But Gregory wasn't yet concerned. Scarlett was probably waiting for effect. Maybe she meant to get the other three boys agitated before she crushed them by walking away with him.

"What are you doing here?" Vincent asked Draco at long last.

"I'm meeting a date," Draco said simply.

Gregory hid a smile and decided to play dumb. "Is it with Daphne?" he asked. "You two were talking last night."

"Talking?" Draco laughed. "We barely spent enough time together for us to return each others' photos to the proper owner."

"What?" Gregory said, sorry to hear his plan had failed. "Do you mean aren't hooking up with Daphne?"

"I don't know why you think I would," Draco said scathingly. "And I know it was you and Pansy who arranged the whole photo thing."

"No, we didn't," Gregory lied easily.

"Oh, shut up," Draco said carelessly. "What exactly drove you to do something so silly? It's not like I'm in love with Daphne. Ha, I hardly even like her!"

"You don't?" Only Gregory didn't say this, for fear of sounding dumb. It was a blow to his ego to realize that his assumption had been incorrect. Draco _wasn't_ in love with Daphne after all.

But that left another question: if not Daphne, _who?_

At that moment Hermione and Ginny strolled up through the snow, laughing merrily to each other. They stopped short at the sight of the three Slytherins and the Hufflepuff lounging in the snow.

"Hi, Smith," Ginny said, her voice overly merry. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm meeting someone," Zacharias said proudly as his face split into a cocky grin.

"Ooooh, who?" Ginny said theatrically. Hermione giggled from behind her shoulder.

"Who else?" Zacharias said, puffing out his chest. "Scarlett."

Both Vincent and Draco gasped at this proclamation. The former whirled around to face the Hufflepuff boy and said, "You aren't going out with Scarlett!"

Gregory could barely hold back his laughter.

"Yes, I am!" Zacharias retorted.

"But you _can't_!" Vincent argued. "You just_ can't_!"

Zacharias placed his hands on his hips. "Oh?" he said frostily. "And why not? Are you saying I'm not good enough for her?"

"No, I'm saying that you _can't_!" Vincent yelled. "Because _I'm_ going out with her!"

"What?!" Zacharias exclaimed. "Like hell you are! She asked me out on a date today at 12:00 at the Three Broomsticks."

"No, she didn't!" Vincent cried. "She asked _me_ out on a date today at 12:00 at the Three Broomsticks!"

Draco inserted himself coolly into the scene. "Look here," he said easily, "You both are clearly Confunded. She asked _me_ out on a date today at 12:00 at the Three Broomsticks."

"NO, SHE DIDN'T!" Vincent screamed. "SHE'S MINE! YOU GUYS AREN'T TOUCHING HER!"

For the first time in their lives Hermione and Ginny had something in common with Gregory Goyle. Namely; they both were laughing at the scene the three boys were making. Gregory couldn't wait until Scarlett arrived and swept him away into the Three Broomsticks while ignoring the fistfight that was bound to happen sooner or later.

"SHE DOESN'T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT YOU!" Zacharias shrieked back. "SHE'S _MY _GIRLFRIEND! WE'RE TOGETHER NOW, AND YOU GUYS ARE JUST JEALOUS!"

"Shut up, you idiots!" Draco shouted. "She's going out with me, and you two are just acting stupid!"

"STUPID, AM I?" Vincent cried. "TAKE _THAT_!" He flung his fist forward and missed Draco's cheek by a foot.

"Ha, not much to take!" Draco jeered. "You know you're wrong; that's why you're so angry!"

"I AM _NOT_ FUCKING ANGRY!" Vincent screamed back.

"YES, YOU ARE!" Zacharias interrupted. "BECAUSE YOU'RE NOT GOING OUT WITH SCARLETT! SHE'S IN LOVE WITH _ME_!!"

Gregory couldn't keep from laughing any more. It was time to play his trump card. He stepped into the argument and said smugly, "Actually, all three of you are wrong. Scarlett wrote to me a few days ago telling me that she was going to invite the three of you out on a date at 12:00 at the Three Broomsticks. But she isn't going out with any of you. . . she's going out with _me_!"

The three boys paused as they stared at Gregory in horror. Hermione and Ginny giggled and ducked into the Three Broomsticks.

Then: "You're making that up!" Vincent said hotly.

"I swear I am not," Gregory said, feeling more superior than he had in his whole life (which wasn't saying much).

"YES, YOU ARE!" Vincent said. "SO YOU CAN GO TO HELL!" And he swung his fist at Gregory this time, and once again missed by a mile.

Zacharias took the opportunity to club Vincent across the back of the neck. "TAKE _THAT_, YOU FILTHY,

ROTTEN LIAR!" he yelled.

"ARGH!" Vincent yelled. He spun around and lashed out at Zacharias, but instead hit Draco in the nose.

"YOU IDIOT!" Draco cried as he slammed his fist over Vincent's skull. "WATCH WHERE YOU SWING THAT LUMPY LIMB OF YOURS!"

"YEAH?!" Vincent yelled. "THEN TAKE _THAT_!" And he missed Draco and hit Gregory on the mouth.

"Ow!" Gregory cried. "That was uncalled for! You guys are acting like first-year Muggleborns!" This said, he socked Vincent across the eye, who toppled over and knocked both Draco and Zacharias to the icy ground.

* * *

Hermione and Ginny, along with Luna and her date, had taken a window seat so they could watch the action. Ginny snorted into her butterbeer after each punch; Hermione didn't dare get near her butterbeer, so strong were her giggles.

"Wow, the filly-bugs must have really gotten to them," Luna suggested mildly as Gregory slugged Draco in the eye.

"They're acting like heliopaths," Luna's date suggested.

Hermione looked up at the brown-haired man, obviously surprised that Luna had found someone as loony as her.

"I'm sorry, I haven't introduced you yet," Luna said matter-of-factly. "Hermione and Ginny, this is David Banksbur. David Banksbur, this is Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley. They're my friends."

Hermione cocked her head to one side to get a better look at David. "How did you two meet?" she said at last.

"Promisks," David said immediately.

"Sorry?" Hermione said, confused.

"Promisks," David clarified. "The credit goes to them. We wouldn't have met if it wasn't for those clever beasties."

"Really?" Ginny said, apparently interested enough to ignore the escalating fight outside their window. "So what did the promisks do to you?"

"They made us take our clothes off," Luna explained easily.

Hermione nearly spilled her butterbeer. ". . . Um, I don't think I heard that correctly," she said quickly as a blush crept across her cheeks. "You obviously didn't say—"

"—that they made us take our clothes off?" Luna finished for her. "Oh, but I did say that. Perhaps you should check your hearing. I think the filly-bugs have been distracting you too much recently. First they make you fail a test, and now this."

"Tricky little blighters, those filly bugs are," David said. "You said that they did something last night to that Goyle kid."

"What did the filly bugs do to Goyle?" Ginny asked, leaning forward to take in the gossip.

"It was pretty awful," Luna said conversationally. "I heard it from Daphne, who heard it from Pansy. Apparently Pansy was trying to seduce Goyle at the Slytherin party."

"Poor Pansy," Hermione said sardonically. "I didn't think she was _that_ dumb."

"She isn't too bad, you know," Luna reprimanded Hermione casually. "She's a bit. . . Slytherin, but so is everyone else in that house. It's because they're, well, _Slytherin_."

"But back to the story. . ." Ginny prompted her impatiently.

"Pansy was trying to seduce Goyle," Luna restarted. "And they nearly had sex, but then Goyle stepped on an enchanted sock and began throwing up all over her."

"Oh, poor thing," Ginny said, not entirely sincerely. She took another glance at Goyle, who was pulping Zacharias's nose. "And here _he_ is, about to go on a date with Scarlett. What a hypocrite." She gave Hermione a very wicked smile, and the bushy-haired girl returned one of her own.

They all turned back to the window, outside of which Draco was escaping a wild uppercut from Zacharias. The blond Slytherin dodged away from the group. "Stop it!" he commanded, his voice floating through the glass. "This isn't worth fighting over!"

Zacharias and Vincent looked up at him in shock. Gregory quickly crawled out of the fray to nurse his bleeding nose. Vincent spat out a mouthful of blood onto the pristine snow and sneered, "Oh, I think it _is_ worth fighting over!"

"No, it most certainly isn't!" Draco insisted. "Because Scarlett isn't here. She was supposed to come half-

an-hour ago! But she hasn't—she's probably sitting cozily at home, laughing to herself and preparing for her next _porn shoot_," he spat out the last two words. "It was all a trick, can't you see? And we were stupid enough to fall for it."

"Don't say that about Scarlett!" Gregory cried. "She would never do that to us!" But Draco was already marching away furiously as he repaired his numerous cuts with his wand.

The three remaining boys were silent for a moment. Zacharias stepped away from Vincent and began feeling at his own mangled nose. "Ow!" he hissed as his hand came away covered it blood. "Owowow!" He winced and looked up at Vincent and Gregory. "Malfoy has a point, you know," he said bitterly. "She hasn't come."

"Maybe she was in an accident," Gregory explained quickly, "or maybe something came up. I know she would never hurt us. . ." And, in his dull brown eyes, hung the unsure words: _She loves me. . . she couldn't hurt me, not like this!_

Ginny almost felt sorry for Gregory Goyle.

Almost. He had spent far too long ogling her and being a right jerk for her to feel much pity for him. Maybe this incident would do him some good—maybe it would teach him to grow up.

She smiled wryly to herself and turned back to her butterbeer.

* * *

The afternoon passed lazily as the snow fell thicker and faster. Luna and David went to a private corner to kiss. Hermione met up with Ron, and they soon disappeared to engage in a similar activity. So Ginny was all alone.

"I wish _I _ had a date," she muttered to herself, knowing full well who'd be sitting across from her if she had her way. She stared out the window. Zacharias had left a mere ten minutes after the fight ended. Vincent waited silently with Goyle all the way until 2:00, neither of them saying a word or even meeting each others' gazes. Now, at 4:00 in the afternoon, Goyle was the only one left.

And so, to take up her time, Ginny began writing a letter. She followed this up by another one, then another, then another, until the gray sky became black. No student was left in the Three Broomsticks by this time.

_Good gracious, I need to get back to the castle!_ Ginny realized as she glanced at her watch. It was already 7:00. She shoved her quill, ink, and parchment back into her bag and left the pub.

Gregory Goyle still stood at the door as tears froze in tracks across his black, bruised face. In his eyes dwelled a terrible hurt, as if his entire world had crashed in on him. And, to him, it had. His one true love had deserted him.

Not only had he failed Scarlett, but Scarlett had failed him.

----------

That night as Harry climbed into bed he found two letters on his pillow:

_Hi, Harry,_

_I'm in the Three Broomsticks right now. Hermione and Ron are off kissing somewhere, so I'm taking this time to write to my friends. How are you?_

_I've started reading _A Clockwork Orange_, as you have suggested. It really is quite a good book, just as you, Hermione, and Luna all said. But we'd better make sure it stays out of Malfoy's, Crabbe's, and Goyle's hands. We don't want them to get any ideas from Alex and his droogs!_

_Speaking of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, I have a very funny story I need to tell you next time I see you. You'll be so proud of Scarlett after you hear about her; heck, you may even start to like her!_

_Have horrowshow dreams!_

_Ginny  
_

* * *

_Dearest Harry,_

_You haven't yet answered my letters. It's been nine days now. You must be thinking REALLY hard about me! Well, that's okay, just as long as you answer. I think you would really like my newsletter. Thank you very much for your time._

_With all my love,_

_Scarlett_

* * *

And, through some miracle, some poor owl made it through the snowstorm to reach Scarlett that evening with a very different letter:

_Scarlett,_

_Okay, something's up with you. And something's very, very wrong with your pictures. Just like the other boys here at Hogwarts, I've been taking a close look at them. But, unlike my fellow peers, I notice some inconsistency. For one thing, your nose keeps changing shape, as do your ears and the slant of your lips. Heck, even your eyes change color. But, most suspiciously of all, your pubic hair changes color. I can see if you dyed your wonderful blond tresses, but NOBODY dyes their privates!_

_I can already guess what answers you might give me. You'll say that it's all magic and that you DID dye your pubic hair and change your eye color and nose and ears and lips, etc, etc, etc. And I'll tribute you this: maybe you did._

_But I personally believe that there's something hovering beneath the surface. Everything we know about you is what you have told us. How can we trust that you're telling us the truth? You could be some 80-year-old freak-of-woman with white hair and wrinkles deeper than your common sense. I want you to prove to all of us that you are who you say you are. Come to Hogwarts in person, or else I'll tell everyone about my discovery._

_Sincerely yours,_

_Roger Davies_

**A/N**: Ha, I love cliffies. I can't figure out why fanfiction authors apologize for them, either. They're absolutely delicious to read AND to write (especially to write), and they keep both the author and the reader going.

Next chapter: More fun with the staff. Scarlett writes to Gregory, and we find that they have a lot to explain. Oh, and Gregory goes through more shit—literally. Roger makes a deal, and the girls try a second shot at the rumor business. Then there's the business with Draco's secret crush (uh oh) and Harry/Ginny happenstances. Oh, and Harry finally replies to Scarlett's letters.

Please, please review—I'll feel motivated to update sooner if you do!


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Okay, sorry that Draco is out of character in this chapter. Then again, he's been OOC for the entire fic, so if you don't mind so far, you won't mind now. So start reading already. Consider this my Christmas present to you for the reads and reviews I've gotten so far.

Disclaimer: Think about it. Every single story on this site doesn't belong to the author. So what makes you think this one actually belongs to me? Oh, but I _do_ own the poems, so there!

**Chapter Seven**

**Scarlett Is Not Necessarily a Shade of Crimson**

It took McGonagall five full rewrites before Dumbledore finally approved of the letter she was to send to Scarlett:

_Dear Madam:_

_The staff of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is concerned about your influence on the students. Your newsletter does not induce an effective atmosphere for teaching and studying. We know you cannot discontinue _The Scarlett Letter _altogether, but we cordially request that you at least withhold future issues from our student body. We must also ask you not to grace Hogwarts and/or Hogsmeade with your fine presence, as it may conflict with the students' ability to pay attention during classes. We would very much appreciate this._

_Sincerely,_

_Staff of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Needless to say, McGonagall was very disappointed with the final copy. Her first draft was nearly two feet long. It detailed each offensive influence that Scarlett was inflicting upon the student body and told her that she absolutely MUST quit producing her newsletter. Then it finished up with dire threats of prosecution if she failed to comply with their requests.

Dumbledore had rejected it, damn him.

He had also forced her to include the reference to Scarlett's "fine presence," when it had originally described said presence as "your horrid pestilence." McGonagall swore to herself that she'd never forgive him for it.

So she rewrote and rewrote, and on Sunday night he finally allowed her take the final copy of the letter up to the Owlery and send it to Scarlett. No doubt it would reach her in the morning.

* * *

Whether the letter reached Scarlett or not, it certainly was unable to keep the sixth issue of _The Scarlett Letter _from arriving, much to the boys' delight. An excerpt from this edition:

_Wonderful news!!!_

_The British wizards have decided to start the nation's first magical porn industry! They have been in conference over the matter ever since your fine letters to them the week before last. And just last night, on Sunday the 19th of January, they have made their decision public._

_The British Wizarding Institution of Pornography (BWIP) has launched itself into business. And they are relying on me for initial revenue! They have written to me, and I have signed up for four movies: "Flesh Calls", "The Wettest Teabag", "The Correct Wand Movements", and "A Bed of Magic". It's a good thing that shooting for "The Endless Chasm" and "Grand Bâton" end this week—otherwise I'd be absolutely swamped!_

_Please send letters of gratitude to BWIP, and also send them some startup donations. Maybe if you give them enough money, they can up the budgets of my four new movies! They're already investing a great deal in my 500,000 galleon advance._

_If it weren't for you guys, all this would have never happened. Thank you so much! I love you all!_

* * *

At breakfast time Scarlett received, amongst her deluge of fan mail, a brief, irritated letter:

_Scarlett,_

_In your last letter you said, "You must be thinking REALLY hard about me." I do believe you meant to say "hardly." The fact is this: I simply do not want to submit to _The Scarlett Letter_. However appealing you may seem, I do not want to become one of your many correspondents, and I certainly don't want to be on your To Do List. Now stop writing to me, or I'll tell Hermione on you._

_Very sincerely,_

_Harry Potter_

----------

Needless to say, the boys could only talk about one subject the entire day: Scarlett's success in the new British Wizarding Institution of Pornography. Much to the irritation of their teachers, many of the males spent their first class of the day sending enthusiastic letters of congratulations both to Scarlett and to BWIP.

But Gregory Goyle shared none of their glee. Ever since the disastrous standup on Saturday, he was crushed in spirit. He had stayed at Hogsmeade well past dark before he headed back to Hogwarts and ran into Filch, who gave him detention for being out so late. Gregory then went straight to bed, where he cried himself to sleep and slept all through Sunday.

Now here he was on Monday morning in Potions with red eyes and a very glum expression on his round face. And Draco was asking what was wrong with him.

"What's wrong with you?" Draco asked Gregory in a whisper. "You look like your best friend died."

Gregory slumped down in his seat and put his head in his arms. "Don't talk to me,"  
he mumbled.

"You aren't still upset over that Scarlett thing, are you?" Draco hissed back. "Because it's not really much to be upset about."

"You wouldn't understand," Gregory whispered miserably. "You don't know what it's like to love someone—_truly_ love someone—only to have them blow you off like that. I can't help thinking: was it something I did? Why did she desert me?" A tear leaked from the corner of his eye and fell into his cauldron.

"Ah, get over her," Draco advised. "She's not worth it."

Another tear fell from Gregory's eye. "She's worth it to me," he whispered to himself.

Draco stopped listening to Gregory and instead paid attention to Snape as he finished taking role. "You all should be prepared to make the Memory Potion today," the greasy-haired professor told him class. "I expect each one of you to get the potion perfect. Woe betide anyone who fails to do this."

And, with a wave of his wand, the instructions wrote themselves on the blackboard. Gregory sighed and reached down into his schoolbag to pull out his pestle while Vincent disappeared to get potion ingredients enough for the two of them and Draco.

When Gregory found his pestle, he also found his morning mail, which he had not yet read. He pulled them both out and laid them on his desk. He had a letter from his mom, another one from his dad, and another one from. . .

Gregory gasped. He didn't even notice when Vincent laid down a pile of potion ingredients on his desk. He could only gape at the return address on the letter. For it was from Scarlett.

With trembling hands, Gregory opened the envelope and pulled out the letter.

_Dear Gregory _(it read),

_I cannot tell you how horrible I feel. I have never felt so inadequate, nor so betrayed, in my entire life. I was really looking forward to our date on Saturday, more than anything else this entire month. I prepared for it ever since I got your first letter. I wanted everything perfect, and I was damned if I wasn't going to make it so._

_This was before I heard what you did with Pansy Parkinson. I heard how you were all over her during that party on Friday night, and how you made out with her and nearly had sex with her. I was so hurt that I had a severe nervous breakdown. I didn't sleep a single moment that night, simply because I couldn't stop crying._

_There was only one thing I could think: how could Gregory betray me? What happened to the kind Gregory, the loyal Gregory, the Gregory who loved me with all his heart? In your first letter you said, "I won't be playing any games with you, because you are too priceless." I must have reread that a hundred times before this, then a hundred times after. If I'm so priceless, then why did you treat me like filth? Am I just an object to you, something you can play around with until I lose your amusement?_

_You know I already have low self-esteem. I hide it the best I can, but I actually confided in you about it. I thought you might understand; I thought you might know how to help me. It hurt me to find out just how wrong I was._

_I was so upset I couldn't possibly come to Hogsmeade. Heck, I even cancelled a photo shoot, I was feeling so awful. Outwardly I continue to act happy and cheerful, just like the porn star I've always been. But inwardly I carry the wound that has torn me apart—the wound that you, my dearest Gregory, gave me. I hardly know if I will ever be able to get over this._

_Love,_

_Scarlett_

Tears streamed down Gregory's face and into his cauldron as he read through the letter once, then twice, then a third time. Remorse such as he'd never felt before burned in his veins and stung in his eyes. He had made an awful mistake, and he had most certainly paid for it. Scarlett said she might never get over this. Oh, he hoped that wasn't true! He was never more sorry for anything in his entire life!

It was a full fifteen minutes before Vincent jabbed Gregory in his ribs and hissed, "Your potion!" Gregory jumped and quickly shoved the letter into his back. Then he began chopping up the rabbit's feet necessary for the first step.

Try as he might, he couldn't get his mind off Scarlett's letter. He was just beginning to grasp how much he hurt her, and how much that one moment of lust over Pansy had destroyed the trust Scarlett had in him. By the time he started composing his apology in his head, the rabbit's feet were chopped to powder.

Gregory dumped the rabbit's feet into his cauldron, where they immediately combusted in a thin sheet of flame that flew halfway to the ceiling and startled everyone half to death. Even Draco let out a scream of shock.

Snape swept over to Gregory's cauldron and glared down at the lump of charred ash. "Idiot boy!" he hissed. "Can you even read? The directions said to _chop_ the rabbit's feet, not to grind them to a powder! And, judging by this violent reaction. . . holy Merlin, have you been _crying _into your cauldron?!"

Everyone within hearing range looked up at these last words and stared at Gregory, their eyes wide and searching. The poor Slytherin wanted nothing more than to die right there in his seat.

Why did everything bad happen to him? _Why??_

----------

One would think that, what with Scarlett's sixth newsletter and her new conquest in the porn industry, that the girls would be even more bitter during their detention that afternoon. As it turned out, however, Pansy arrived in excellent spirits.

"Why are you so cheerful?" Lavender asked. As luck would have it, she, Pansy, Parvati, Romilda, Daphne, and Luna all ended up being assigned the same job—which was where their luck ended, because that particular job happened to include pulling out all the rotten siding in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom and replacing it with fresh wood.

"Because it's a nice day," Pansy replied evasively. "Don't you ever feel happy on nice days?"

"Not when I'm stuck in a waterlogged bathroom, I'm not," Lavender answered. She wrinkled her nose as she pull away the sideboard with the back of her hammer. The slat of wood crumbled into a soggy pile, which Luna scooped into her Bottomless Trash Bag.

"That's just because you haven't had any good news to cheer you up recently," Pansy said with a wicked smile.

"Did you finally have sex with Gregory?" Luna piped up. "I know you've been trying to seduce him ever since you broke up with Draco."

"Mmmm, no such luck," Pansy replied, though even this thought couldn't faze her. "It's just that I heard a wonderful bit of news from Hannah Abbot, who in turn heard it from Hermione Granger."

"Just tell us what it is!" Parvati pleaded, unable to bear the suspense.

Pansy's smile widened. "I have heard that Scarlett has gotten a letter from our wonderful teachers."

Romilda perked up instantly. "What did it say?" she asked. "Anything good?"

"Naturally," Pansy said as she pulled away another sideboard. "The letter requested that Scarlett revoke the subscriptions from everyone at Hogwarts, and that she not visit the school nor the village."

"Excellent!" Lavender said happily. "We're by no means rid of that scarlet whore, but it's a step in the right direction."

"I'll bet McGonagall thought it up," Daphne figured shrewdly. "She's been going spare over Scarlett this past week."

"If she did, then I forgive her," Romilda said emphatically, "even though she fucked up our nude photo shoot."

"I wish we could do another shoot like that," Luna lamented calmly as she scooped some more rotten wood into her trash bag. "David and I had such fun; we're thinking of doing another for just the two of us."

"David?" Pansy asked her.

"He was my stud during the shoot," Luna explained. "Now he's my boyfriend. He's invited me over to his place for the summer. I can't wait to see the Famripples in his field!"

Pansy didn't quite know what to say to this, so she settled with a simple, "Er, nice," then went back to pulling out baseboards.

At that moment the door to the bathroom swung open, and a most unlikely person stepped in. The girls stared at him for a moment, but Luna raised a hand in greeting and said, "Hello, Roger."

"Hi," he said. "Er, so you guys are the leaders of The Conspiracy?"

"Yes, we are," Pansy said warily.

"Except for me," Luna put in.

"Yes, expect for Luna," Pansy amended.

"Good," Roger Davies said. "Hannah Abbot said I'd find you here."

"Well, you have," Pansy said. "And what do you want? Certainly you aren't here to help us pull away the rotten baseboards."

"No, I'm not," Roger said. "I'm here to tell you something."

Pansy waved her hand for him to continue. "Tell away," she said as she pushed a pile of rotten wood

towards Luna.

"It's really very valuable information," Roger said. "Just because I'm in Ravenclaw doesn't mean I don't have Slytherin tendencies. I'm not giving this information away for free."

"And what exactly is this information about that makes it so palatable to us in particular?" Pansy asked, reserved.

"It's about Scarlett."

That certainly got the girls interested. They each perked up and stopped their work. Even Luna inclined her serene expression towards the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain. "About Scarlett, is it?" Daphne said, a slight smile creasing her face. "What about her?"

"I said the information wasn't for free," Roger reminded her.

"Of course," Daphne said. "And what exactly would you require of us before you gave us this information?"

"You know I've been pushing for Hogwarts to get a new set of school brooms," Roger said. "I expect you and your club to help me raise the proper amount of money."

"But that's nearly five hundred galleons!" Parvati exclaimed. "Certainly the information isn't worth that much??"

"It's less than four galleons per person," Roger said reasonably. "And yes, the information _is_ worth that much."

"Is it?" Parvati said, half to herself. She turned to the other girls and said, "What do you guys think?"

"Four galleons per person isn't a bad deal," Daphne said logically, "especially seeing as all the girls will learn the information. We can get them to give us the 500 galleons before we tell them."

"Actually," Roger piped up, "I've already collected 100 galleons so far. I only need 400 more."

"Wicked," Daphne said. "I'll bet my parents would help pay for better Hogwarts school equipment. I'll send them a letter."

"So it's a deal?" Roger said, raising his wand.

The girls looked at each other and nodded. They all raised their own wands to meet Roger's, and they said, "Deal."

A soft flash of green light passed between the seven wands before fading away. The second they put their wands away Pansy said, "Okay, so what's the information?"

"I'll show you," Roger said. "Um, is there any dry spot in this entire bathroom?"

"It's Moaning Myrtle's bathroom," Romilda said, rolling her eyes. "Do you really think there'd be a single inch of floor that _wasn't _covered in water?" However, she pulled out her wand and cast a quick Drying Spell on the floor beside her.

"Thanks," Roger said, and pulled all six issues of _The Scarlett Letter_, plus a copy of the message he sent to Scarlett. "It's like this—I don't think Scarlett's truly who she says she is. . ."

And he spent fifteen minutes showing them everything he addressed in his letter to Scarlett. The six girls pored over the different photos, their eyes growing wider as Roger continued his explanations. Their eyes weren't the only part of them that widened; by the end of his rationalization each one of them were wearing big smiles.

"So you think it's true?" Romilda asked Roger excitedly. "You think Scarlett's a fake?"

"Whether it's true or not, it certainly does seem suspicious," Roger said. "Do you know what else I found out? You know her five movies she keeps referring to?"

"The French porn and Muggle porn?" Pansy said.

"Yeah, that stuff," Roger said. "I tried to find out more about those films, and guess what? I couldn't find _anything_! I even wrote to the French Wizarding porn industry, and they wrote back saying that they're making none of the movies Scarlett mentioned. Now _that's_ what I call suspicious."

"Suspicious enough to start a valid rumor?" Pansy said wickedly.

"Most definitely," Daphne agreed. "Thanks a million, Roger. We'll get those 400 galleons to you as soon as possible. Ha, Scarlett's going to pay for ever letting her newsletter get into Hogwarts!"

----------

At that moment the Hogwarts teachers were starting their weekly staff meeting. McGonagall once again took a seat by Professor Flitwick, and Dumbledore started off the meeting. "I do believe you had a complaint to make, Severus?" he said lightly.

"I do believe I already made it," Snape countered crossly.

"It must have slipped my mind," the headmaster said easily. McGonagall noticed with growing dread that that mischievous twinkle was back in his eyes. Ugh, it was the same twinkle that preceded the moment where she had to tell the whole staff about the incident in her Transfiguration classroom.

"It couldn't have possibly slipped your mind," Snape insisted.

"Ah, but it did," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "I'm getting old; please don't make me feel any worse about it."

Snape ground his teeth together in frustration. "Can you remember nothing we talked about this morning?" he said in a low growl.

"Something about ghosts," Dumbledore said. "Was it the Nearly-Headless Nick and the Fat Friar?"

"Nearly-Headless Nick and Moaning Myrtle," Snape corrected him. "The Fat Friar is a _friar_, for heaven's sake—he'd never do something like that."

"Like what?" Dumbledore inquired.

"I refuse to repeat what I have already told you," Snape said stubbornly. McGonagall couldn't help hold back a giggle. She was glad she wasn't the only one who had to suffer such embarrassment.

"If there is something going on in Hogwarts that worries you, I must know," Dumbledore pushed him, the twinkle growing with each passing moment. "How can I fix the problem if you won't tell me?"

"I've already told you!" Snape snarled.

"I've already forgotten," Dumbledore rejoined. "Please re-enlighten me."

Snape let out a sigh. "It wasn't much," he muttered, barely loud enough for the others to hear. "Simply put, I ran across Moaning Myrtle, er. . . making love to Nearly-Headless Nick in my dungeon last night."

The teachers giggled just as they had for McGonagall. She giggled even louder than the others, glad not to be on the receiving end of such humiliation this time.

"Oh dear," Dumbledore tutted. "I'll have to speak with them. They must move their lovemaking to another dungeon. We can't have the students walking in on them, after all."

Snape rubbed his eyes wearily. "I was rather hoping you would tell them to stop altogether."

"Oh no," Dumbledore said quickly. "That wouldn't do at all. I have no right to stop them, as long as they keep away from the students during their intimate moments. I'm sure Nearly-Headless Nick hasn't had sex since his one-night stand with the Gray Lady 60 years back."

The teachers looked sick at this thought, and none of them dared to ask Dumbledore how he came across this information. Flitwick stirred in his chair, then ventured, "Er, I didn't know ghosts could have sex."

"Only with other ghosts," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Naturally, they can't conceive, but they can do most everything else. It's really quite fascinating. Maybe you should do a study on it, if Nick and Myrtle would be willing."

McGonagall quickly cleared her throat. "I have sent the letter to Scarlett," she butted in, eager to discontinue the previous conversation. "We must now await a reply."

"I can barely contain my impatience," Dumbledore said calmly. "What's next on the agenda? I believe we needed to discuss the upcoming board meeting on Friday."

"But—" McGonagall stopped short. She was rather insulted that Dumbledore have moved on so quickly from the Scarlett issue—she had been hoping to release yet another diatribe against the porn star. But then she realized that, however much she wanted to continue discussing Scarlett, she actually had nothing new to add.

So she sat patiently as her interest in the rest of the staff meeting waned down to nothing. It was at this point in time that she pulled out a piece of parchment and wrote on it:

_Filius, let's play a game._

And she pushed it over to Flitwick, who picked it up, read it, and wrote back:

_What kind of game?_

She smiled wickedly. The conversation had been established.

_It's really quite a fun little game. I try to guess your measurements. The first number is length, and the second number is width. So it's length x width. Got it?_

_Yes indeed._

_Okay, then. I'll start at 12x4._

_Both lower._

_10x3.5_

_Lower._

_9x3_

_Lower._

_Still? 8x2.75_

_Lower._

_Um, okay. 7.5x2.5_

_Lower._

_7x2_

_The first number is lower. The second number is higher._

_6.1x2.1_

_Close enough. It's 6.08x2.11._

_Oh. Um. . . Um. . ._

_Um, what?_

_Is that. . . Er, I mean. . . you yourself are only 3 feet tall. I guess I shouldn't expect, um. . . never mind._

_What? Is 6.08x2.11 not big enough?_

_No, that's not what I meant! It's. . . I don't know._

_It's plenty big enough!_

_Oh, I'm sure. It's just. . . um. . ._

_What?? Gosh, how many inches do you expect a guy to have??_

_. . . . . . . . . INCHES??? We're talking INCHES????_

_Um, yes. I thought you knew that._

_Sweet Merlin! I thought we were talking centimeters! How many centimeters are in an inch?_

_2.54 exactly._

Here, McGonagall did a bit of quick math on the edge of the parchment before writing back:

_So it comes out to 15.44x5.36 centimeters. . ._

_That sounds right._

_. . . . . . WOW. . . . . ._

_Heh heh._

_I mean to say, WOW!!!!_

_Stop it, you're embarrassing me._

_Merlin's balls, I don't think I'll be able match that._

_Then be glad that you don't have a penis to compare to mine. Do you want me to guess your measurements in inches or centimeters?_

_How about centimeters?_

_Sounds good. . ._

And so it went.

----------

Gregory Goyle spent all of Defense Against the Dark Arts writing his apology letter to Scarlett. He often spent five minutes or longer on a single sentence, and he wrote out three drafts before he finally decided it was worth sending to the porn star he loved.

_Dearest Scarlett,_

_I don't know how I can offer an apology sincere enough to cover the hurt I gave you. When I read your letter, I felt so bad that I seriously wanted to die. When I realized just how much I hurt you, I felt so horribly remorseful that I cried. I cried so much my teacher even saw me._

_I made some bad decisions at the party. First of all, I shouldn't have touched the spiked punch. The alcohol has a way of muddling the brain and confusing things inside the mind. I didn't want to touch Pansy, but my mind tricked me into thinking it might be okay._

_Which comes to my next bad decision: I should have never hung around Pansy in the first place. I know that she is a very Slytherin person, and that she has seduced people in the past (Draco, for example, back in our third year). I merely wanted her help in hooking up Draco and her friend Daphne, but perhaps I shouldn't have even done that, because it was right after that when Pansy started kissing me._

_And I should have never let her continue kissing me. I should have broken away from her before she dragged me towards the bedroom. I was in no state to resist her after that, what with the alcohol I consumed. I should have run away from her long before she began._

_We didn't have sex. I accidentally stepped on a sock that by friend Vincent had cursed, and I began throwing up profusely. Pansy left soon after that, and it was at that very moment that I was sorry for what I had done. I had failed you. I had betrayed your trust. And then I made my last mistake of the night: I decided not to tell you. I thought that, as long as I was penitent and never did it again, it would be alright. Boy, was I wrong. I should have confessed the truth while I still had the chance. You might have forgiven me then._

_If there's one thing I'm glad for, it's Vincent's cursed sock. When I touched it, I started throwing up everywhere. That kept me from having sex with Pansy, and I consider it a Divine second chance. I have another try, and this time I will do the right thing._

_So I ask—no, beg—you, my divine Scarlett, to give me a second chance. I am sorry from the bottom of my soul for what I have done to you. I never meant to hurt you. But, through my own idiocy, I have. Draco (among others) has always said I am stupider than a retarded Muggle, and now I've proven him right. But I promise that I'll become smarter. With you by my side, I can be the best person I can be. Please forgive me._

_With all my heart and love,_

_Gregory_

He left class as soon as the bell rang and headed up to the Owlery. Then, still sniffling a little, he attached his letter to the leg of his wide-eyed tawny owl and pushed him out the window, figuring that Scarlett might get his apology by dinnertime.

* * *

Gregory's apology did indeed reach Scarlett by 6:00 that evening. And, coincidentally, a letter of her own flew into Hogwarts at the same moment and landed at Roger Davies's place at the Ravenclaw table:

_Dear Roger,_

_Your comment about me being an 80-year-old freak was partly true; I am not 80, but I am indeed a freak. I just wanted to tell you that you have a good eye and a sharp wit (I suppose you must have made it into Ravenclaw). You are a smart young man, much more so than the rest of my fans._

_Being smart, however, isn't enough. I also wanted to give you some words of wisdom. You think you have found out a secret of mine. Well, you haven't. You have discovered the problem, but you have none of the answers. Remember this: things are not always as they seem, even when you DO get all the answers._

_Cordially,_

_Scarlett_

----------

The girls had a meeting on Monday night in the Room of Requirement. On Tuesday morning they had everything straightened out (including the 400 galleons, which Pansy delivered to Roger Davies at breakfast). Each girl was to tell at least one boy the new rumor. It was an easy idea (it had taken only a minute to think up and arrange), and by evening the news would have spread all throughout the school.

And so the girls spread throughout the school, the new rumor going with them. . .

* * *

At first-block Transfiguration Eloise Midgen took a seat next to Vincent Crabbe. "Guess what I heard, Vincent," she said, holding back a contrived giggle.

"Um. . . Dumbledore's retiring?"

"Not in a million years," Eloise said. "Nope, it's about Scarlett."

She had piqued his interest. Vincent looked up and said, "What about her, Eloise?"

"It's sensational!" Eloise said with relish, leaning a bit closer to his ear. "See, Scarlett's really a fake."

"What?" Vincent said, quite taken aback. "No, she isn't."

"Ah, but she's been very sneaky about it," Eloise explained. "She's done a good job on her photos, but they're all of different people. Sometimes the eye color changes, or the length of her nose, or even—" here she leaned directly into Vincent and dropped her voice to a whisper—"the color of her pubic hair."

Vincent's eyes widened. He broke away from Eloise and dived into his schoolbag and pulled out one of his issues of _The Scarlett Letter_. He flipped back and forth between the nude pictures, his eyes growing larger each second. "Holy-Merlin-in-a-thong!" he gasped. "You're right! See, in that picture she has blond pubes, but in the next photo it's sandy brown, and in the next one it's black! Whoa, and in this picture she has a bikini wax—no hair at all!"

"And the texture of her hair seems to change with alarming frequency," Eloise pointed out helpfully. "And her lips look a lot less plump in this picture than in the last."

"And her breasts change size!" Vincent gasped. "See, she must have a D-cup in that photo, but in this one near the back she seems barely a C-cup! Wow, who would have guessed?"

"I know," Eloise said with a grin. "Isn't it strange?"

Vincent nodded, clearly thinking hard. "Yes, but. . ."

"But what?"

Vincent pondered his answer. "Couldn't she have. . . changed her features around for fun? She _is_ a witch, after all, and she says she's good at Body Enhancement spells. She could have used some of those, or possibly a Glamour Spell. You never know."

Eloise nodded assent. "True," she said. "You never know." She left this last comment open-ended on purpose.

* * *

In second-block Potions Orla Quirke approached Euan Abercrombie. "What's up?" she asked him.

"Not much," Euan replied, pulling out his Potions book.

Orla didn't bother with a preamble, but jumped right into the matter. "Did you know that Scarlett's a fake?"

Euan was a bit startled by the suddenness of her speech. "What? Scarlett, a fake? Why?"

"Because you can see it in her pictures. Do you have a copy of your magazine here with you?"

"Nope, it's in my dormitory," Euan said, now setting up his cauldron.

"Oh, well," Orla said. "But you can still see it. Her body changes in between shots."

"What do you mean by 'changes?' " Euan asked, clearly confused.

"Well. . . her body, you know. Sometimes her hair and her. . . um. . . nose, was it? And something about her lips. And something about. . . oh gosh, I forget. Something to do with. . . hehheh. . . a certain part of her body."

"A certain part of her body?" Euan said, now clearly intrigued. "Which part?"

"Heehee. . ." Orla was blushing.

"The, um, _breasts_?" Euan's voice dropped to a whisper. "Her butt? Her. . . her. . . private place?" He giggled after naming each body part.

"The last one," Orla said, giggling and blushing at the same time. "The hair on the last one, to be more exact. It. . . changes color."

Euan burst into a fit of giggles, as did Orla. The other second-years in the room turned their heads to look at them, but they still couldn't seem to control themselves. Even after Snape started role call was it hard to keep a straight face.

* * *

"You've heard about Scarlett, haven't you?" Luna asked Harry at lunch today.

"How can you go a day at this place _without_ hearing about her?" Harry said, a bit exasperated at the idea.

"No, there's a new rumor about her," Luna clarified. "She's really a veilabat."

"Ah, is she now?" Harry said, hiding a smile.

"Yes!" Luna's eyes were now quite wide (wider than normal, that is). "I've _told_ everyone about those red bikinis she wears. They gave her away from the start."

"What's she done this time?" Harry said, smiling wryly.

"She's tricked all the boys in Hogwarts, that's what," Luna said earnestly. "If you look at her pictures, you'll see that her body parts seem to change. Especially her pubic hair."

Harry dearly wished that Luna had the reserve to lower her voice when she said "pubic hair." Sadly, she didn't. "Um. . ." he said, "my goodness. How interesting. But you must remember that I don't have a copy of _The Scarlett Letter_."

"Oh, right," Luna said quickly. "You'd only want to look at Ginny's pubes."

Could she have said it any louder? Harry winced and whispered, "Maybe this isn't the best place to talk about it." Some of the younger kids they sat amongst had turned their head at the sound of "pubes."

"How often do you think about them—I mean her?" Luna asked calmly.

"I think about _her_ quite often," Harry hissed back. "But I don't think about. . . about _them_."

"When you say _them_, I assume you mean pubes," Luna said, entirely too loudly for Harry's comfort. "You never think about them?"

Harry was bright red by now. "Gosh, I. . ." His Gryffindor nobility couldn't allow him to lie. "I. . . never." Okay, so it allowed him a little white lie. Besides, he didn't want to date Ginny for her pubic hair. He certainly wasn't _that _shallow! "Why are we even talking about this? You were telling me about Scarlett, not Ginny."

"Oh, right," Luna said, not even attempting to hide her smile. "Pretty much all I am trying to say is that Scarlett is a fake. _That _we can agree on, even if you don't want to admit that veilabats are real."

Harry took this new development of information in stride. "It might be true," he said pensively. "But, while I won't look at the pictures, neither will I believe the speculation over them. In fact, I could hardly care one way or the other."

Luna simply smiled and stirred her drink with her wand.

* * *

Pansy strategically placed herself next to Zacharias Smith in Herbology. And, as soon as the chance presented itself, she filled him in on the new rumor in much the same way that her fellow female classmates had done throughout the day. By the time she was finished with her explanation, Zacharias's eyes were wide with a furious epiphany.

"No wonder she stood us up at Hogsmeade last Saturday!" he said, quite incensed.

"She stood you up?" Pansy asked, very much interested and trying not to laugh.

"She sure did!" he said. "She invited Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and me to meet her at the Three Broomsticks at noontime, and she didn't even show up! What a nasty woman!"

Pansy raised her eyebrows. "She invited _Gregory_? Did he go?"

"Sure," Zacharias said, still put out by Scarlett's behavior. "We all did. But he was the one who stayed the longest."

Pansy turned back to their Snapping Frifflepods, her eyes cold. "I see," she said icily, and she fell into a pensive silence.

----------

By the last class of the day the male students of Hogwarts had worked themselves into a frenzy over the new rumor. Scarlett just _couldn't _be a fake! . . . Could she? No, she most certainly couldn't! But what about the different pictures? Wasn't that suspicious in the slightest? Such conversation as this flurried back and forth between the boys all day.

Most nervous of them all was Gregory Goyle. By 3:00 that afternoon he was sweating rivers. He wiped his moist brow, and his hand came away glistening. Surprisingly, he hadn't yet heard the rumor, but he didn't need this rumor to make him nervous. He still hadn't gotten a reply back from Scarlett, although he had been hoping for one all day.

But, as he entered his dormitory to drop off his schoolbag, he found a large barn owl sitting comfortably on his pillow with a letter in its mouth. With a hoarse cry Gregory lunged at the bird, which flapped away in shock, but not before he grabbed the message from its beak. At a considerable amount of tugging on both sides, Gregory managed to get the letter free, and the shell-shocked owl flew away, disoriented from the fight.

The letter was from Scarlett. With trembling hands, Gregory slit open the envelope, pulled out the parchment, and began reading:

_Dear Gregory,_

_It took me a very long time to reply to your letter. I spent over an hour reading and rereading it, wondering how to make up my mind. I just didn't know what to write! However, after a few more hours, I came up with a letter of my own._

_You have hurt me, my darling Gregory, more than anyone else ever has. I am still recovering from the emotional injuries you gave me. But I have decided to forgive you. After all, we all make mistakes, and I do believe I can give you one more chance._

_However, things cannot go back to the way they were. We will have to start at the very beginning again. For now, we are just friends and no more. You have to prove yourself trustworthy all over again, which will take much longer than before. I hope that you will prove a better man this time around._

_With all my love,_

_Your dearest Scarlett_

Tears streamed down Gregory's face, mixing with the sweat of his past anxiety. She had forgiven him! She had actually decided to give him a second chance! And, by Merlin's name, he wouldn't let her down this time! He wouldn't even _look_ at another girl, if that's what it took. He was Scarlett's and Scarlett's alone.

At that moment Blaise burst into the room, out of breath and very excited. "The Scarlett Fan Club is meeting in half-an-hour!" he cried out. "Come on, we gotta get to the Gryffindor common room posthaste!"

"What?" Gregory said, quite startled. "But we normally meet in the evenings!"

"It's an emergency meeting," Blaise explained as he searched around for his copies of _The Scarlett Letter_. "Colin said to bring all six issues of the newsletter."

"What for?" Gregory asked as he reached into his bag and pulled out his Scarlett magazines.

"_What for??"_ Blaise said incredulously. "Haven't you heard the rumors?"

"What rumors?"

"Never mind," Blaise said. "We'll be talking about it during the fan club meeting anyway." He finally found his magazines, then rushed from the room, leaving behind a very confused Gregory.

* * *

In half-an-hour the Gryffindor common room was packed with boys from every year in every house. Gregory barely had room enough on the floor to sit down with his small pile of magazines. Just like every other boy in the room, his attention was fixed on Colin, Seamus, Dean, and Terry. The four leaders of the unofficial fan club stood in the middle of the room, all looking very worried.

"Okay, is there anyone who _hasn't_ heard the rumor yet?" Colin asked timidly. A very few people called out, "Yes!" "You tell them, then, Seamus," Colin said.

"It's like this. . ." Seamus began uneasily, "The girls are all saying that Scarlett is a fake." Gregory's heart briefly constricted at these words until he told himself not to believe it. The girls were simply making it up to be jealous. "At first I thought the girls were simply making it up to be jealous," Seamus said, "but then they backed up their claims with specific examples from the newsletter itself. Namely, from Scarlett's photos."

The next half-hour was pure torture for Gregory Goyle. Seamus, Dean, Terry, and Colin led the investigation in comparing and contrasting every single picture in _The Scarlett Letter_. For a long, long while the boys went over each inconsistency they found and tried to explain it away.

"She could have used potions to change her body features," Euan Abercrombie piped up. "Maybe she _felt_ like being different in each picture."

"And she could have easily used Glamour Spells for most everything in here," said Stuart Ackerly.

"Yeah, there's no proof that she's _not_ who she says she is," Justin Finch-Fletchley pointed out. "We should just believe she is who she says she is."

But Terry had some bad news for them. He pulled out a fat book from his schoolbag and heaved it onto the table in the middle of the room. "I hate to tell you guys, but none of this is as simple as it sounds. People overestimate Glamour Spells way too much. I read in this book that those Glamour Spells actually do very little to change personal appearance. They can cover blemishes and zits, but, in the end, they can do no more than makeup already does. The Glamour Spells cannot account for the change in Scarlett's nose, or hair texture, or breast size."

The boys were quite taken aback by this bit of news. For a while nobody knew what to say. Gregory felt a constriction in his heart. _Scarlett just CAN'T be fake! I can't lose her again, not when I just got her back!_

Then Zacharias Smith cleared his throat. "Um, couldn't she use Anatomical Enhancements?" he said. "That would account for the change in her body appearance."

Terry shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid not," he admitted. "See, I looked up on that, too. And I found out that there are no such things as Anatomical Enhancement spells. The closest you can get to such things are anatomically-enhancing potions. But I read up on those, too, and they _never_ make such subtle changes to physical appearances."

This new development was even worse for the boys. They shifted around in their spots and muttered uncomfortably to one another. What would happen to _The Scarlett Letter_ if she was a fraud?

"Um. . ." Gregory finally got the nerve to speak up. "Um, Scarlett's a very smart young woman," he said. "Perhaps she invented some new spells or improved on some old ones. What would she gain by lying to us?"

Draco sniggered behind his hand and muttered, "A bleeding jackpot, perhaps?"

Dean, however, answered more reasonably. "You have a point, Goyle," he allowed, "but the truth is this: we have absolutely no idea as to whether she's a fucking fake or the real deal. With that in mind, I have a proposition." The boys leaned forward and listened eagerly as he continued. "We will write to Scarlett. Every single one of us, right now, and we'll put in all in a large envelope. Then we'll attach an official message from the fan club leaders. In this last letter, we'll request that she prove she is who she says she is."

"We'll ask her to come to Hogwarts in person!" Colin cried out, hit by sudden inspiration. "If she's real, what will she have to lose by coming here? Nothing."

"And what will she have to gain?" Seamus elaborated. "Everything! We'll believe her and the girls will _have_ to believe her! It's perfect all around!"

Draco snorted and mumbled to Gregory, "Yeah, perfect for everyone except the girls."

* * *

It took another hour for everyone to write their letters and drop it into a Bottomless Envelope. After that, the meeting ended, and everyone dispersed. Gregory left the Gryffindor common room feeling a bit anxious, but slightly relieved. At first all that information against Scarlett had worried him. He couldn't believe that she'd do something so awful to all of them! And if she _was_ fake, why the heck would she fall in love with _him?_ There were so many other boys in the school that were better-looking than him. Scarlett could have ANY of them!

But, in the end, Gregory felt as good about this matter as could be expected. It might seem like Scarlett was fake, but Scarlett would come to Hogwarts and prove those rumors wrong. She wouldn't let him down again. . . He didn't know what he'd do if she did.

At that moment Gregory realized he really needed to pee. He stopped by a restroom on the fourth floor and was about to push open the door when Pansy suddenly came around the corner.

"Gregory!" she called out. He thought of rushing into the bathroom and out of her sight, but something stopped him. Maybe it was the tone in her voice; she certainly didn't sound ready to seduce him again.

"Greeeegory!" she said, her voice carrying a poisoned sweetness. Her smile was horribly frosty, and her demeanor cold.

"Uh, hello, Pansy," he said slowly. "What is it?"

"Oh, I just wanted to hear about your date with Scarlett on Saturday," Pansy said sweetly.

Gregory slumped against the bathroom door. "Uh, why?" he said, realizing to his horror that a level of pain tinged his voice.

"I just wanted to know," Pansy said, her voice suddenly growing colder, "why you would want to go out with her."

"That's my own business," Gregory said stiffly. "Why would you care?"

Pansy's eyes flashed. "Normally, I wouldn't!" she said. "But when it's the day after you nearly have sex with me, you bet your fucking ass that I'd care!"

Gregory's eyes grew wide. Damn, this whole Pansy thing was coming back to haunt him repeatedly! "But why would you care?" he repeated, realizing how dumb he sounded.

"Because I sure as _fuck_ don't want to go out with a shit that cheats behind my back!" she cried.

"But we aren't going out!" Gregory insisted.

"NOT GOING. . ." she sputtered, "NOT GOING OUT?!?!? WHAT, YOU JUST WANT ME FOR SEX?!?! FUCK YOU, GREGORY!" And she whipped out her wand. "_PRIORI BOWELUS!"_ she shrieked. A sickly yellow light shot from her wand and splashed Gregory in its glow. But nothing happened to him.

Pansy, however, was smiling vindictively. "I'll give you a few days to think," she said. "You've got until Friday evening to decide whether you want to be with a _real_ person or a slutty fraud like Scarlett."

Then she stalked off.

Gregory stood rooted to the spot with shock. He never would have guessed that Pansy would be so mad about him going out with Scarlett. Why did she care, anyway? Not like it mattered to him; he knew he belonged to Scarlett and no one else.

Glad to have straightened this out in his mind, Goyle pushed his way into the bathroom. He reached the urinal on the wall and pulled down his zipper. Then he took aim and pushed everything from his bladder.

Nothing happened.

Until, with a suddenly loud reverberation, all his pee squirted out his butt and drenched his rear. He gave a cry of anguish as poop started forcing its way out his penis before coiling downward to a small pile in the urinal.

With a sinking dread, Gregory realized what Pansy's spell had done. He felt his bottom with both hands, and they came away shining with sticky urine. It had seeped all the way up to the small of his back and was now running down both legs. His robes were drenched and plastered to his body. He turned around and began walking quickly over to one of the normal toilets in hopes that one of them had toilet paper.

It was at this precise moment that Snape walked into the bathroom. Gregory gasped. His zipper was still

down, and a string of poop still swung from his crotch. His hands were drenched, and the back of his robes were soaked. Snape's eyes widened at the eyeful, and he quickly exited the restroom without comment.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck, FUCK!_" Gregory moaned. "_Everything _bad happens to me! _WHY, WHY, WHY???"_ He sunk to the floor of the bathroom with a wet squelch and began crying.

And the worst thing about it was this: he had never mastered any Cleaning Charms.

----------

On Tuesday evening Scarlett got a Bottomless Envelope that spilled forth over a hundred letters. Among the many:

_Dear Scarlett,_

_The girls say you're a fake. They say your hair and eyes and nose keep changing. I'll bet you have some explanation for it. Come here to Hogwarts and prove all the girls wrong!_

_Love,_

_Euan  
_

* * *

_Dear Scarlett,_

_We love your newsletter, we really do! But we are all a bit confused as to the inconsistencies in your pictures. Do you really dye your pubic hair? That's remotely possible, but certainly you don't change your nose around and switch your lips when you get tired of them!_

_Please explain._

_Justin  
_

* * *

_Hey, Scarlett,_

_Okay, so you've stirred us up for the past two weeks. Now you're stirring us up again because the girls think you're a fake. So get your ass over here and show them that it's not a fraud!_

_Love,_

_Cormick McClaggan_

* * *

And then the official letter:

_Dear Scarlett,_

_We the Unofficial Scarlett Fan Club appreciate all the work and effort you have put into your newsletter. We have never read something as enjoyable or seen something as pleasing to the eye. For that, we praise you._

_But we have been confused of late. The girls have noticed some inconsistencies in your newsletter that need some explaining. Your body features keep changing around, and we are quite stumped as to how you do it. The girls want to blow you off as a fake, but we think there's more to it. We want you to prove them wrong by coming here to Hogwarts. Please consider this._

_With all due respect,_

_Colin Creevey_

_Seamus Finnegan_

_Terry Boot_

_Dean Thomas_

----------

Wednesday morning brought a horde of clouds that hovered ominously over the castle, threatening to break forth at any moment in a strong storm. The students in Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures sprinted across the grounds, praying that the rain overhead didn't fall before lunchtime.

Meanwhile, inside the castle, Parvati had slept well past her alarm. She slowly awoke with a yawn and performed her cursory glance at her alarm clock. "Damn it!" she hissed. It was 8:00. Potions was starting at this very moment!

She jumped out of bed and, after grabbing her school uniform from her bureau, rushed into the bathroom and began brushing her teeth and dressing at the same time. Then she washed her face with one hand and did up her hair with the other. She picked up her bag by the tips of her fingers while whipping on her shoes partway, then stumbled out her room while trying to shove her feet into her high-heels.

Parvati fell twice on the way down to the dungeons, then barely missed the vanishing step. She glanced at her watch. "8:15!" she whispered to herself. "Shit!"

Then, as she reached the top of a flight of stairs, it happened. She passed by a suit of armor and didn't see until it was too late that its sword had slipped down her shirt. With a sudden, loud _RRRRRRRRIP_, she spun around as her shirt and robes tore all down the front.

"_Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck!" _Parvati moaned as her breasts spilled out of her shirt. "Of all the damn days not to wear a bra. . .! Shut it, you fucker!" she added to the suit of armor, who had started laughing.

She looked down at her shirt and saw that it had torn all the way past the lower hem. In the same vein, all the buttons on her robe had torn away. She now stood in the middle of an open hallway with her clothes ruined and her breasts hanging in full view. _And _she was late for class! _Damn it!!_

For a full minute she stood rooted to the spot, wondering what to do. She couldn't very well go back up to the dormitory to change; she was so late already, and she couldn't afford to skip Potions altogether. But she couldn't walk in there with her breasts bared. Sure, the guys would like it, but Snape would take off ten times as many points as if she had simply been very late.

At that moment a pounding of footsteps echoed up the stairs. Panicking, Parvati pulled her robes shut just as Draco Malfoy appeared right in front of her.

He stopped short with a start. "What are you doing here, Parv—er, Patil?" He glanced from her bloodless hands, which clutched her robes to her body, then up to the suit of armor, who was still creaking out a few giggles.

"None of your damn business, _Malfoy_!" Parvati spat out the last word as if it left a most foul taste on her tongue. She hadn't missed his glances at her clothes and the suit of armor's long sword. "What are _you_ doing? Have you come to gape at me again?"

"What?" Draco said, a bit taken aback.

"Yeah, I thought so!" Parvati said fiercely. "What is it?—don't you get enough from ogling all my other friends?!"

"I do not ogle your friends!" Draco argued hotly.

"Yeah," Parvati said sarcastically. "So why exactly are you still here? Do you need another eyeful to be satisfied, is that it?! Do you want me to rip off my robes so you can see the great tear that that _fucking _suit of armor made down my shirt? Then you could see my breasts, which is what you've wanted all along!"

"I do NOT ogle your friends!" He insisted angrily.

"Oh, is that so?" Parvati said coldly, her voice shaking. "Then why in Merlin's name do you always keep looking over at the Gryffindor table?"

Draco didn't say a word, but simply shuffled his feet against the wooden floor.

"Wait," Parvati said suddenly, "you say you don't ogle my friends—"

"—I don't even _look_ at them!" Draco interrupted—

"—but what about me?" Parvati continued as if he hadn't spoken. "You never said you didn't ogle _me_!"

Draco didn't look angry, nor offended. In anything, he looked absolutely miserable. "You're right," he barely more than whispered. In all actuality, he hadn't meant to say that out loud.

"What??" Parvati said, quite surprised at this last concession. "You—you—"

Draco looked up guiltily, as if just realizing what he said. He took a step back from Parvati, who was glaring venomously at him. "I—" he began— "I'm sorry." He looked directly into her eyes for a moment, and in that moment she saw that he truly was. But what surprised her the most was the sadness that filled those eyes of pale silver. He turned around to walk away.

"Wait," Parvati said. He jerked to a stop, but didn't turn around. She appraised him with a cool glance, then said, "I'm surprised—a Malfoy actually apologized to me."

Draco growled and spun around to face her. "Look, just because I have a shitty father doesn't mean that I'm shitty, too!" he said fiercely, his temper getting the better of him. "You think that I look up to him, but I _don't_! I'd like nothing more than to disassociate myself from him for the rest of my life! I'm _nothing_ like him, and don't you dare start thinking I am!"

Parvati took a step backwards, and then another one. Draco was never so vocal as this! And he was _never_ this personal and open! What was with him? "Why do you care what I think about you?" she huffed.

He paused, apparently very confused as to what he should say. "I. . . I don't," he said.

Parvati gazed at him searchingly, looking directly into his gray eyes. She hardly noticed that her robes were opening slightly at her neck and revealing the skin beneath. "You _do_ care," she said at last, her voice filled with wonder. "_You_, of all people, want my approval. Why?"

Draco closed his eyes and turned his head away from her, then gave a shuddering sigh. Then he opened his eyelids and looked back at her. He didn't say a word, but the deep longing in his gray eyes spoke every word.

Parvati took another step away from him, her eyes wide and her mind reeling. "No," she said. "You don't. . ."

Draco didn't say a word, but he didn't deny it.

"You can't!" Parvati said, quite flustered. "You left Pansy for Scarlett. That's why she got mad enough to start The Conspiracy."

"Scarlett?" Draco said, his brow furrowing. "Why in the world would I be in love with her?"

"You have her magazine!" Parvati said. "You look at it all the time!"

"So does every other boy in the school," Draco pointed out. "And I don't look at it 'all the time,' as you say. In fact, I've barely cracked them open in the past week."

"But she invited you out on a date!" Parvati pressed.

"Oh, and I'm supposing that you've been madly in love with every single boy_ you've_ dated," Draco said sarcastically.

"I—" Draco had such a good point there that Parvati couldn't deny it. Maybe he wasn't it love with

Scarlett. . . maybe it was Parvati he really—no, he couldn't think of her like that! "But the poem," she said a long last.

"Sorry?" Draco said. "What poem?"

"The one you wrote during the Scarlett fan club," Parvati said. Draco's eyes lit up in remembrance. "Why

did you write that if you weren't in love with her?"

Draco looked directly at Parvati and said, "I didn't write that poem for her. I wrote it for you." He gave Parvati one last, long look before he turned around and began walking away.

"Wait!" Parvati called again. He stopped, though he didn't turn around. "Um. . . what about Potions class?"

"Go on ahead," Draco mumbled. "I'm skiving off."

Parvati watched him go, her hand still clutching loosely at her torn robes. She could hardly fathom what had just happened. It was like it had come from a dream, or maybe a nightmare—or maybe both. But to think that it was real, that Draco Malfoy actually _loved_ her. . .! She would have expected Snape to dispense hugs to all the Gryffindors before that happened!

After trying a few spells, Parvati patched up her shirt halfway, then turned it around and wore it backwards. She managed to reattach and fasten a single button near the top of her robes. After this she left for Potions, still deeply preoccupied by what just happened.

Parvati entered the classroom thirty-seven minutes late, so Snape, in consequence, took 37 points off Gryffindor. She hardly realized, nor hardly cared. She sunk down on a bench next to Lavender and immediately pulled out a sheet of parchment.

_Lav, you'll never believe what just happened. . ._ she wrote.

----------

The storm clouds piled higher as the students piled out of their last class of the day. Most of the fifth years leaving Herbology rushed across the grounds, eager to get in before the rain came down. Ginny, however, took her time as she skipped happily through the grass. She stopped by at a small courtyard and sat at the edge of the fountain that stood in the midst of the shrubs and flowering camellia trees.

The clouds shifted from gray to black. A crack of thunder shuddered in the afternoon air. Ginny laughed happily and splashed a hand through the rippling fountain.

"Shouldn't you be getting in?" said an amused voice from the portico twenty yards away. Ginny turned and saw, to her delight, that Harry was crossing the courtyard and coming nearer to her every moment. Better yet, it began to rain. Better yet, he was wearing a white shirt. Better yet, so was she! _God must really love me,_ she thought happily and the first drops of rain spattered across Harry's chest.

"I always come here," she said happily. "Besides, I like the rain. Don't you ever feel like frolicking in the rain?"

"_Frolicking_," Harry repeated with a wry smile. "I like the rain well enough, but _frolicking_ is a bit much."

"No, it isn't!" Ginny said gaily. He was now within her reach, so she grabbed him by the hand and pulled him up onto the rim around the fountain. The rain had grown stronger. Ginny's robes were beginning to feel heavy, so she pulled them off and flung them beside her schoolbag. Harry had left his own robes and bag beneath the portico.

"Come on, let's dance around the rim of the fountain," Ginny said happily. And she pulled Harry in a hop-skip along the edge of the water.

"Do you often do this?" Harry asked, very amused.

"Always," Ginny replied. "It's a favorite past-time of mine. At The Burrow we have a great big mud puddle—I can't resist jumping in it every once in a while. Mum scolds me something awful, but it's worth it."

Harry couldn't help but laugh as he imagined the expression on Mrs. Weasley's face. "I'll bet it's worth it," he said, still chortling. At that moment he took a wrong step and slipped. He fell backwards into the fountain and pulled Ginny in along with him. She screamed in shock as their bodies came in sharp contact with the icy water. Harry laughed uproariously and splashed up a series of mini tidal waves. Ginny spluttered and turned about, realizing what had happened. Then she, too, couldn't keep from laughing.

It was times like this when she was truly happy to be alive. Things didn't get much better than being caught in a fountain in the middle of the storm with the man she loved while they both wore white shirts that had become drenched and transparent. It didn't matter that it was January and that the water was ice-cold. Harry could warm her up like no other, and that was enough for her.

Harry eventually understood the idea of frolicking, and they did quite a bit of it as they tried to splash each other in a fierce water fight. Of course, the rain was so thick by now that they could hardly get each other any wetter.

Fifteen minutes later they stumbled from the fountain, both laughing and shivering at the same time. Ginny picked up her sodden robe and school bag, and they ran over to the portico, where Harry took up his dry robe and school bag. Then they headed back to the school.

"Are you cold?" Harry asked as he glanced at Ginny, who was shivering in her drenched outfit. He didn't wait for an answer, but wrapped his robed tightly around her and pulled her a bit closer to him. "Come, we don't want you to catch pneumonia."

Ginny was soaring high on cloud nine. Taking advantage of the chance Harry was giving her, she pulled her body up against his and laid her head on his shoulder, where they walked in silence for some time.

"What are you thinking about?" Harry said at last.

"About a poem I once wrote," Ginny said softly, marveling that even her Gryffindor bravery allowed her to bring _this_ up.

"Oh, a poem! About what?"

"It's a love poem," Ginny said, blushing deeply. "I was just thinking about it."

"Can I hear it?" Harry said eagerly.

"Um. . . I don't have it memorized," Ginny fudged.

"Then just recite what you know. That'll be enough for me."

Ginny thought over the request for a moment, then acquiesced. She, of course, had the whole thing memorized, but she hadn't been about to reveal it _that_ readily. She took a deep breath and began:

"Whenever I am cold you warm me through,

Even though you shiver in the chillest storm.

When everything is false you still stay true;

I know you'll never let me come to harm.

When everyone else leaves, it's you who stay,

When everything is far, you still are near;

Your words my dreads and doubts always allay;

No one like you can wipe away my fear.

Your warm embrace makes bright the darkest night

Because, when I was lost, it's me you found.

When all was wrong, you set it then aright

And gave my heart a melody of sound.

I may have thought I loved, but all the same,

I never found true love until you came."

Ginny had started out very nervously, but by the end her voice grew stronger and more sure. At the last line, she was looking Harry straight in the eyes, willing him to realize what she was saying.

Harry was staring at her, his eyes wide. For a long time he didn't say anything; he just stood there looking very pensive. It was absolute torture for poor Ginny. Then he said softly, "I just realized something."

Ginny's heart skipped a beat or three. "Yes?" she prompted, a bit too eagerly.

"It's. . . that is. . . I'll see you later," Harry slipped out of her embrace. "Make sure you change out of your wet clothes once you reach your dormitory."

And was he gone, leaving Ginny in the doorway of the castle feeling severely disappointed and confused.

----------

A letter arrived that evening at dinner that caused all the boys to gather around the leaders of the Scarlett fan club at the Gryffindor table:

_Dear Mesrrs. Creevey, Finnegan, Boot, and Thomas:_

_On behalf of your Unofficial Scarlett Fan Club, I will gladly come to Hogwarts. I will arrive on Friday between 10:00 A.M. and 2:00 P.M. I will even make an appearance in the Great Hall so that all the girls may see me in person. I expect you all to be there to greet me._

_With love to my greatest fans,_

_Scarlett_

----------

Later that night Hermione and Ginny were patrolling the corridor outside the Gryffindor common room. The Scarlett fan club had saw fit to meet once again, and the two girls didn't want to be in the midst of it. Besides, they were waiting to waylay a certain person once the meeting ended.

In the meantime Ginny made good use of the time by pouring out all her troubles for Hermione's sympathetic ear. ". . .I was so sure I had him!" she bemoaned, having just explained the entire incident in the fountain. "I was preparing myself for a wild snogging—perhaps even some groping—when he up and left!"

"Oh dear," Hermione said softly. "I'm sorry."

Ginny pulled at her hair, which had grown quite frizzy over the last half-hour. "He had the perfect chance!" she moaned. "I was _right there!_ What kind of guy doesn't take a hint like that!"

"I dunno, Ron might not have," Hermione inserted.

"But it wasn't even a hint!" Ginny said. "I practically spelled it out for him!"

"Hmm, that's what you have to do sometimes," Hermione said condoling. "Guys aren't always the sharpest tools in the shed."

"But Harry's supposed to be!" Ginny insisted. "He knows more than he lets on, you know."

Hermione put her hand to her chin in pensive thought. "True, he normally does," she said, "but there're other times when he awfully thick."

"But this is _beyond thick!!_" Ginny declared. "He had the perfect chance!"

"You already said that," Hermione pointed out.

"But he did!" Ginny said empathetically. She pulled at her hair again, then slumped down to the ground, all worn out.

Hermione watched Ginny with pity, knowing what the girl was going through. Ron had taken ages to come around, too. But, with a great deal of patience and a little forwardness, Hermione had secured him at last.

"Do you think he doesn't like me?" Ginny asked glumly. "Maybe I've been imagining it all along."

Hermione smiled sadly and took a seat beside her red-haired friend. Then she put her arm around Ginny and squeezed her comfortingly. "Maybe Harry _does_ know more than he's letting on," Hermione suggested. "He just isn't telling you for reasons of his own. Maybe he has an elaborate plan that will end up with you two getting together after all."

Ginny poked her foot at the wood floor beneath him. "Maybe," she said irritably, "but unlikely. Whatever he's playing at, I wish he'd hurry up! I've been waiting six years now, and it's been very tiring."

At that moment the dormitory opened, and Draco Malfoy stepped from the portrait hole into the hallway. Presumably he had left the meeting early, seeing as he was all alone. He strode silently towards the stairs, giving off a particular air of depression.

Suddenly forgetting their previous conversation, Ginny and Hermione leapt forward and followed him at a quiet tiptoe. They each flitted down the many flights of stairs and into the Entrance Hall, their forms casting shadows in the shimmering moonlight that streamed through the windows. Draco didn't turn around the entire time, but continued as if nobody was following him.

As they reached a flight of stairs leading to the dungeons, Draco suddenly spun around, his face suddenly inches from Hermione's and Ginny's. "Bloody Merlin, what the hell are you two doing??" he exploded. "Is there any reason that you've been following me for the past ten minutes?"

Ginny gave Hermione a sidelong glance, which Hermione correctly interpreted as a sign that she would need to do the talking. "We wanted to talk to you."

Draco scoffed in disbelief. "Talk to me?" he said incredulously. "_Talk to me?!?_ What makes you think I have time to waste with a Mudblood and a dirt-poor weasel?"

Hermione suddenly looked a bit taken aback at this attack, but Ginny stepped forward and hid a smile. "We need your help," she said calmly.

Draco let out a shout of laughter. "Ha! You need my help?! And do you really expect to get it?" He wiped a tear of mirth from his cold gray eye. "My, my, Granger, you're dumber than even I thought!"

Hermione looked quite offended and not a little hurt by this comment. She looked ready to shrink back into the shadows, but Ginny took a step forward for each step her bushy-haired friend took backward. "Malfoy, we aren't asking you a favor," the red-haired Gryffindor said. "We are asking for a trade. We need your help, and you most certainly need ours."

Draco let out another bark of laughter; this one, however, sounded much weaker than before. "If you think I need you help, then you're thicker than a concussed troll," he said shortly. "Even _if_ I needed help, you would be the last person on earth that I'd go to."

Ginny shook her head slowly, this time unable to conceal her grin. "Oh, I think you're very wrong there. See, we know all about Parvati."

Draco froze in the torchlight and stared at them, his eyes wide and vulnerable. "What about Parvati?" he said, a bit too quickly.

Ginny laughed and took a step closer to the blond Slytherin. Even Hermione moved hesitantly from the shadows. "Really, Draco," she said, her voice lilting with laughter, "if you tell one girl, you tell them all. Only a magical oath could get in the way of _that_. You're madly in love with Parvati, and there's really nothing you can do about it."

"Ha!" Draco said. "I can get any girl I want! I don't need your help for a trivial detail like that."

"Yes, you do," Ginny continued, her confidence growing with each small victory over Malfoy. "Parvati is inclined to hate you, see. She doesn't much like the Slytherins, and she likes you the least. She tends to go after the fun-loving guys, and also the guys that don't keep ogling her and her friends."

"Hey!" Draco protested, "I don't ogle her friends! I thought I told her that."

"Okay, so maybe you didn't," Ginny amended, "but that doesn't make her any more inclined to like you. As a typical girl, she's actually looking for a boy that acts like a gentleman. You, most unfortunately, are a gentleman that acts like a boy."

"Don't go mistaking me for my father again!" Draco said crossly. "I can act like a perfect gentleman if I want to. And I _refuse_ to accept your help in securing Parvati! I'll get her to go out with me if it takes me another ten years!"

"By then she'll have married and had a few kids," Hermione pointed out helpfully. "I think you'd better figure out a backup plan."

"Yeah, one that doesn't involve _you_," Malfoy ground out. "And I don't remember asking a Mudblood like you to join this conversation."

"Hey, you'd better act more polite if you want our help!" Ginny retorted, advancing on Malfoy.

Draco whirled around, his black cloak whipping in the scarlet torchlight. "No chance in hell!" he said empathetically. "I don't want your help, and that's final!"

He strode towards the staircase, his footsteps echoing angrily in the dark. Hermione looked a bit panicked that their plan wasn't working, but Ginny remained calm and collected. She moved forward just as Malfoy's foot rested on the first step, and spoke. "Parvati's not the only thing you need help with."

Draco paused for a moment and turned around. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said shortly.

"Then we'll tell you," Ginny said simply. "And remember this: by helping us, you'll be doing the very thing you've longed after for ages."

* * *

"I found that venture quite successful, don't you think?" Ginny said brightly two hours later as she and Hermione entered the sixth-year girls' dormitory.

"Yes, I suppose so," Hermione said fairly, "just so long as Malfoy keeps his word. We need to get everything together tomorrow evening. I do hope he sends his part in on time."

"Believe me, he will," Ginny said surely, dropping her voice as they stepped into the midst of the dormitory's gentle snores. "He's getting the chance to do what he's always wanted—there's no way he's going to mess it up. And, as an added bonus, we'll also put in a good word about him with Parvati. With any luck, they'll be a couple by the time spring rolls around."

"_If_ Malfoy delivers," Hermione reminded her.

"He will," Ginny said, smiling serenely. "He may have agreed reluctantly and with all kinds of bad grace, but he was more eager than a dragon in the kiddie pool. You could see it in his eyes." She crossed over to Hermione's bed, humming happily to herself.

When she saw the letter on the pillow her smile disappeared in a flash. She grabbed it up and began reading, her face paling with each sentence. Her hand shook as she reached the last line.

"What is it?" Hermione asked eagerly.

"It's. . ." Ginny said, a tear appearing in the corner of her eye. "It's. . . I never believed he'd actually do it!" The tear quickly slid down her cheek and plopped gently on the letter's signature. Hermione grabbed the message with a frown and began reading:

_Dear Scarlett,_

_I know I told you to stop writing to me, but I have had a change of mind. I think I actually _would _like to get to know you. Except I only want to know _part_ of you, if you know what I mean. Meet me in the courtyard by the portico off the bridge at 7:00 P.M. on Friday the 31st of January. I know the teachers don't much like you, but you'll make it in here. I'm giving you over a week to figure out how. Just set your mind to it, and it'll be no problem._

_Love,_

_Harry Potter_

Hermione stared at the letter, her brown eyes bugging out to twice their normal size. "Please tell me he didn't. . ." she whispered, staring at her red-haired friend, who was now sniffling softly in the dim dormitory.

"I—I just can't believe it," Ginny moaned softly. She wiped away a wave of tears, only to be overtaken by another. Her eyes were rapidly reddening. "I really thought he loved me! I was so sure today when we—when we were in the fountain in the rain—and then when I read him my poem. . .!" She began sobbing.

"I'm sorry, Ginny," Hermione said gently. She wrapped her arm around Ginny and allowed the red-head to cry into her shoulder. Ginny couldn't seem to stop her tears; after so much anxiety and disappointment, she could no longer uphold the dam of sorrow that brimmed inside of her. She let misery burst forth, and for the next half-hour all Hermione could to was to hold her friend close, all the meantime whispering, "I'm so, so very sorry. . ."

----------

Thursday morning arrived with a letter to Narcissa Malfoy:

_Dear Mother,_

_I just wanted to tell you that our troubles will soon be over. We will both soon get what we wanted all along. What that is, I cannot say, in case this letter gets misdirected. But I do want to ask you to send one of your elves over to Hogwarts today. I need it to take me on some VERY, VERY important errands that absolutely cannot wait another day. Send the elf over around 3:00; it can meet me in my dormitory._

_Love,_

_Your giddy son_

Thursday was, primarily, a day of suspense. Nothing much happened, but much was discussed among the students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The boys couldn't think of anything but Scarlett's appearance at Hogwarts the following day, and they spent all class arguing over what exactly she'd look like. Many people thought she'd be the exact same as she was in her magazine; others thought she would end up looking totally different. Many of the girls openly wished her to be horrifically disfigured, or at least unbearably ugly.

The boys were also preparing the school for Scarlett's arrival. They cleaned up their common rooms (and even their dormitories) in the event that Scarlett might visit their living quarters. A few of the boys even joined the girls during their detention and helped in the cleansing of Hogwarts. One thing was the forefront in their minds: the school had to be absolutely perfect for Scarlett's arrival!

By late afternoon Ginny found herself sick of the whole mess. It had been uproariously funny at first, watching Scarlett intoxicate the boys and infuriate the girls. The raging drama around the school had afforded hours of endless amusement for her and Hermione. But now it was just a sick farce. The joke was on her just as much as it was on everyone else. What did it matter that Ron had passed the Scarlett test when Harry had failed? How could _her_ Harry—her perfect, gentlemanly, smart, fun-loving Harry—do this to her? She had as good as said she loved him! And what had he done? He had gone behind her back and started writing suggestive missives to Scarlett, that's what!

_I was fooling myself_, Ginny realized with a pang of misery. _He never loved me, not for a moment. Why else would he have left me yesterday when he had the perfect chance to return my sentiments? We would be hand-in-hand at this very moment if he really loved me._

She entered her dormitory feeling very depressed. Her fellow fifth-year girls had just returned from their detention, smelly and sweaty and still complaining about Scarlett. _I swear, if I hear another word about that whore, I'm going to rip someone's head off!_ Ginny thought bitterly.

She sank down on her bed and picked up Harry's school robes, which she still hadn't returned from the other day. She held them close to her, sniffing in Harry's scent of polished wood and fresh air. How she wished he could be there in her arms right now, and how she knew that it could never be. . .!

Elizabeth was the first girl to return from the shower. She entered the room with her towel wrapped around her body and went over to her dresser. She pulled out an outfit that was entirely too small for such a cold winter day. Then she lifted a barrette from her drawer. It slipped through her fingers and skittered under Ginny's bed. "Darn it," she whispered, and dropped to her knees to retrieve the errant barrette. She dived between Ginny's legs and reached under the bed. Her hand hit a stack of magazines underneath, and they all came spilling out at her feet.

"Oh shit," she muttered. "Sorry, Ginny, I—" she stopped short and gasped as she stared at the flood of magazines before her. They were all pornography.

Unfortunately, Ginny's other three roommates decided to wander over to see what the commotion was. One of them, Alyssa, took one look at the myriad of scantily-clad women and blurted out, "Whoa, do you read _all _of these??"

Ginny was spluttering as her mind worked at double speed, wondering what to say. Elizabeth jumped in before she could say a word and breathed, "So you're a lesbian, Ginny!"

The other three girls gasped and exchanged looks, as if each was dying to say something, but didn't quite know what to say first. Alyssa, however, pointed out, "No, she can't be. She's in love with Harry."

"Oh," Elizabeth said, suddenly understanding. "So you're bi, Ginny!" The girls nodded to each other, realizing this must be the answer.

"N—no, I'm not," Ginny finally managed. "This isn't mine."

Alyssa let out an incredulous laugh. "You mean to say that someone hid a million porn magazines under your bed, and you had no idea they were there?"

"No," Ginny said. "It, um, belongs to my twin brothers. See, my mum destroyed their last porn collection, so they asked me to keep this one safe."

The girls exchanged a few doubtful looks before Elizabeth turned back to Ginny and said patiently, "Fred and George don't need you to hide their porn collection. They have their own apartment above their shop; they could store it there."

Ginny chuckled weakly. "Believe me, that wouldn't stop my mum. What else do you think happened to their last collection?"

"Oh," Elizabeth said. She and the other girls seemed almost disappointed that Ginny wasn't hiding in the closet, as if they had been really looking forward to the week's worth of gossip that would have followed afterward. Ginny sighed and, with a wave of her wand, sent the river of naughty magazine back under her bed. Elizabeth found her barrette, and the other girls separated throughout the dormitory.

Ginny turned back to Harry's pair of robes and sniffed back a tear. Merlin, she couldn't wait until this Scarlett mess was over! It had caused too many mix-ups, too much confusion. Maybe everything wrong would right itself once the boys had forgotten about Scarlett.

_But there's some things that will never be right again_, Ginny thought sadly as a tear trickled down her face. She balled up Harry's robes and threw them at the foot of her bed, where they slipped halfway under the mattress, gone from Ginny's sight but not quite forgotten.

**A/N: **Hm, I seem to have forgotten to put on the R-rated warnings at the beginning of each chapter. Not that it matters, anyway. Just about every chapter has R-rated material in it, so it's really no use repeating myself unnecessarily. I hope nobody's been offended, and if they have, then I hope they recover. . . Er, I mean that I'm deeply penitent. . .

(but not enough to actually change my story.)

Yeah, so anyway. . .

Next chapter's the biggie. Lots of stuff is revealed, and it's really the climax of the story. But don't go running away with the idea that you'll know everything by the end of next chapter—because you won't. Chapter 9 is just as pivotal as Chapter 8, even if it's much shorter. Please stick around (I plan to update after the Christmas holidays), and REMEMBER TO REVIEW:D If you're an author, you should already know how important it is to leave feedback, even if it's constructively negative.

Islander


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Thanks to those who have reviewed this story so far! Your feedback is very much appreciated!

Disclaimer: I have never, and will never, be able to take Harry Potter away from JK. Lady Chatterley belongs to the incomparable D. H. Lawrence. "I quit this bitch" belongs to the idolized Inetta the Mood Setta. Hmm, seems like I'm left with nothing except a few scraps that won't make money anyway. Ah, well—such is fanfiction.

**Chapter Eight**

**Scarlett's True Colors**

Hermione woke up on Friday morning in an absolute jitter. She jumped out of bed at 6:00 and took to the shower, where she hummed merrily to herself for half-an-hour before using up the last of the hot water. She jumped out of the clouds of steam and got dressed, then headed out of her dormitory. Dawn's light was just beginning to peek in through castle's many windows, casting large, pale yellow shafts across the halls.

When Hermione entered the Great Hall she saw only Ginny, who was patiently waiting for her at the empty Gryffindor table. The bushy-haired girl skipped over to her friend and said, "You're up already?"

"Couldn't sleep," Ginny said with a mischievous grin, "especially not with what's happening today."

"Oh, I know," Hermione said, rubbing her hands together. "I can't wait for the heads to roll!"

And they sat at the table for another quarter-hour before an expansive array of breakfast food appeared right in front of them. Ginny piled scrambled eggs and biscuits on her plate; Hermione took two Bratwursts.

At that moment Dumbledore entered the Great Hall, looking almost as serene as Luna and just as batty. Ginny turned her head swiftly towards the old man, then looked back at Hermione, excitement in her eyes. "So. . . are you going to ask him?" she whispered.

"Me?" Hermione said, taken suddenly aback.

"Yes, you," Ginny said. "He's much more likely to listen to the prefect who got 11 OWLs than the mischief-making, red-headed Weasley."

"Not really," Hermione argued, dropping her voice as Dumbledore strode past them and pretended as if he heard nothing. "He's a fair man; he'll listen to you just as much as he'd listen to me."

Ginny put on a pout. "But you're _smarter_," she said, coaxing. "You have the best brains of all of us. You'd know exactly what to say, because you are the best person in all Hogwarts at figuring things."

Hermione's lip twitched at the flattery. She ran a hand through her bushy hair and said, "Well, if you put it like that. . . wish me luck!"And she followed Dumbledore up to the empty head table. Ginny followed her at a distance of fifty feet and waited with baited breath.

Hermione reached Dumbledore just as he reached his chair. He sat down without noticing her and put a pile of sausage on his plate. Steam rose gently from the hot food as he took his knife and proceeded to cut the first sausage into pieces.

"Er, ahem," Hermione cleared her throat nervously.

Dumbledore looked up from his first bite and saw his audience of one. "Ah, Miss Granger," he said pleasantly. "What may I do for you?"

"Um," she said nervously. She cleared her throat again and said, "Well, I. . . had a suggestion."

"Ah, a fresh idea!" Dumbledore said, quite delighted. "I would love to hear it. I am never too old to learn something new."

"Okay, then," Hermione said, still nervous. "I thought that. . . I thought that it would be nice if the Hogwarts Board of Governors knew more about the students at this school. I mean to say, ever since Lucius Malfoy bought his way back into their midst, they've been making some horrible decisions. I was sorry to hear that they cut the teachers' salaries by five hundred galleons a year."

"It's a pity," Dumbledore said sorrowfully. He picked up a link sausage and began sucking the grease off its head meditatively. "Poor Professor Vector had to cancel her vacation to the Bahamas last summer because of it."

"Exactly," Hermione said, gathering up a bit more of her Gryffindor bravery now that Dumbledore was agreeing with her. "See, the governors don't know much about us. So I thought it would be best if they ate lunch here in the Great Hall each time they came here for a board meeting. So they can get to know us better, see."

Dumbledore's face lit up. "My dear Miss Granger, that is the best idea I have heard in a long time." She couldn't tell whether he was serious or not. Whichever way, he continued: "Thirty points to Gryffindor. As it so happens, we have a board meeting today at 10:00 this morning. I'll invite them to lunch at 12:00."

"Better make it 12:30," Hermione put in quickly. "Because, um, because. . . just because. . ."

"I agree with you," Dumbledore said empathetically as he began on his Bratwurst. Hermione supposed he must find a tiny detail like an explanation totally pointless. "At 12:30 the school governors will dine with us in the Great Hall. My dear Miss Granger, you are truly the smartest witch of your age; you and Miss Weasley together, in fact."

Hermione blushed a brilliant red at this compliment. She turned away as Dumbledore thrust his sausage into a soft, round bun and began chewing reflectively.

"How'd it go?" Ginny whispered excitedly as Hermione returned to the table. By now a few other students had entered the Great Hall, so they kept their voices down.

"Great," Hermione said happily. "Dumbledore was all for it. He didn't even ask why he should invite the board governors at 12:30 instead of 12:00."

Ginny shook her head and looked up at her headmaster, who was smile serenely as his sausage. "He's a weird one, all right."

"Yeah, he is," Hermione said empathetically. "He's also really strange. Do you ever get the feeling that he knows more than he lets on?"

A chuckled quivered on Ginny's lips as she gazed up at Dumbledore. "All the time," she said, "all the time."

----------

It had been five days since the start of the girls' mass detention, and already Hogwarts sparkled like a new toy in the sunlight. Filch was quite enjoying his break from the constant cleaning that normally swallowed up his free time. He had spent the first part of the morning with Irma Pince in the library, then the second part going on a walk with Mrs. Norris. They were passing the Owlery when Filch suddenly heard voices coming from the large, drafty room in front of them—student voices, no less! Someone was skipping class!

"Who's in there?!" Filch growled. The voices stopped immediately. "Don't think I can't hear you, even if I can't see you!" He allowed Mrs. Norris to scamper forward into the room to catch the miscreants. He followed behind her at an uneven gait, grinning evilly at the chance to assign even more detentions.

But when he entered the Owlery, there was no one there. Mrs. Norris mewled loudly, possibly in confusion, or possibly in annoyance at their failure to find anything. Filch was rather confused himself; those students couldn't have simply disappeared into thin air!

Mrs. Norris mewed again. The sound echoed ominously in the silent room.

Wait, the room wasn't supposed to be _this_ silent! Filch stared up towards the rafter and gasped, his heartbeat racing as he realized—

All the owls were gone! Not one single perch was occupied. Not one single hoot floated down from the rafters. All that was left was a vast expanse of empty roosts and a poopy floor.

Then the door behind them slammed shut with such a suddenness that Filch jumped. "THEY'RE ESCAPING!" Filch yelled to his cat. "AFTER THEM!"

From the other side of the door came the muffled sound of a girl casting a spell: "_Colloportus!_"

"DAMN IT!" Filch shrieked, recognizing the sealing charm. Those damned kids had five minutes of a head start, and there was nothing he could do about it! "DAMN IT, DAMN IT, DAMN IT!" he screamed again. "I'M GOING TO DUMBLEDORE OVER THIS, I SWEAR!"

And so he and Mrs. Norris waited as the sealing spell faded away. After six-and-a-half minutes and thirteen tries, Filch finally managed to force the door open with a squelching sound. Then he ran down the halls as fast as his uneven footsteps would allow as his cat followed behind at an easy lope.

They reached the entrance to Dumbledore's office five minutes later. "BERTIE BOTT'S EVERY-FLAVORED CONDOMS!" he screamed at the gargoyle, who jumped aside and let him onto the revolving staircase. Filch balanced on the top step, fuming at the abominably slow pace of his ascent. After a minute (though to Filch it seemed more like an hour) he reached the door to Dumbledore's office. He pounded loudly on the doorjamb and shouted, "DUMBLEDORE, OPEN UP!"

A moment later the door swung open, and Dumbledore appeared calmly at the other side. "Ah, my faithful caretaker," he said calmly. "What is it?"

"THE OWLS ARE GONE!!" Argus shrieked, his voice bouncing back and forth across the stairwell. "SOME OF THOSE ABOMINABLE STUDENTS WERE LURKING IN THE OWLERY, AND I KNOW THAT THEY DID IT! THEY EVEN SEALED ME AND MRS. NORRIS IN THE DAMN ROOM!"

"_Mrs. Norris and me_," Dumbledore corrected him.

"AND YOUR PASSWORD IS ABSOLUTELY RIDICULOUS! BERTIE BOTT'S EVERY-FLAVORED CONDOMS AREN'T EVEN SWEETS!"

"I must disagree with you on that account," Dumbledore said. "They are very much a sweet, and quite tasty, too." Filch turned white at the thought. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm in the middle of a school board meeting, and, while I'm sure they find our conversation fascinating, they really do need me back. So just look around for the owls, and you'll find them eventually. You're the best caretaker I've ever had; I'm sure you can do the job."

And he shut the door in Filch's face. The only thing that kept the caretaker from swearing at the griffin knocker was the board meeting on the other side. Merlin's beard, he hated his employer sometimes! That man could be ten times as annoying as every one of those blasted students put together!

----------

Only Ginny, Hermione, and Dumbledore knew of the new lunch plans for that day. The teachers entered the Great Hall at noon in total oblivion. Meanwhile, the boys were exciting themselves over an entirely different matter.

"Scarlett's coming today!" Gregory said excitedly.

"As you've told us a million times already," Blaise said. He rolled his eyes, but he couldn't contain a shiver of anticipation as he sat down at the Slytherin table.

"But I'm just so happy!" Gregory said. "I can hardly contain myself!"

"Try," Draco said dryly. However, far from glowering at his air-headed friends, he indulged himself in a smile and hummed softly to himself. Gregory was too excited to even notice his friend's sudden cheer.

Around them the other Hogwarts students had settled down for a nice lunch before their afternoon classes. They stacked food onto their plates and began their typical noon conversation when a sudden flurry near the ceiling caught their attention.

Gregory, along with the rest of the school, looked up and saw, much to his surprise, a wave of owls pouring from the rafters. "Strange," he said aloud, "the owls never deliver this much mail at lunch. Why didn't they come at breakfast?"

But then he saw what the owls carried: they each bore an identical piece of mail clutched in their claws. A magazine, to be exact. They swooped down on the students and began dive-bombing them with no less than a thousand copies of _The Scarlett Letter_. The newsletters cut through the bread and splashed into the pumpkin juice. They skipped over the sausage before skittering across the floor and leaving long grease marks. They bounced off people's shoulders. One copy flew straight into Colin's head. Another hit Gregory square in between the eyes and instantaneously raised a large, yellow bruise. Professor Vector ducked beneath the table as no less than a dozen owls dropped their merchandise on her head.

"Owowow!" Gregory cried as he dabbed a milk-soaked napkin against his swelling bruise. "That hurt!"

"What is this, Wizard War III?!" Seamus shrieked as a magazine landed a glancing blow to his crotch.

"Dumbledore, do something!!" McGonagall yelled in panic as she threw a magazine at a fat barn owl. The barn owl hooted indignantly and threw it back. "I swear, I never subscribed to this sh—trash!"

"THOSE ARE ALL THE MISSING OWLS!!!" Filch screamed, purple with rage, as Madam Pince endeavored to calm him.

"Oh, dear!" Luna breathed as she stared up at the roiling mass of owls. "What have the filly-bugs done to you poor things?"

But then the owls had delivered all the mail they had. They flew back towards the rafters, and the flaps of their wings grew fainter in the distance. At long last, the final owl disappeared with a hoot. A silence descended along with a snowfall of feathers. For a long time no one said a word. Seamus clutched a magazine in one hand and his injured crotch in the other. Gregory had dropped the napkin and now stared at the newsletter, unmoving. Hermione and Ginny pressed their knuckles against their mouths to keep their laughter from escaping. And Dumbledore sat watching the whole thing, clearly unfazed and unworried.

Then Gregory reached out and grasped a copy of _The Scarlett Letter_ in his hands. It showed a near-nude Scarlett hiding behind a large statue of a snake. She held a long, pale-blond wig in her hand. Gone were the colorful teasers that had previously adorned the cover. At the top was the title—_The Scarlett Letter_—and underneath were three words. "Scarlett's True Colors," Gregory read aloud. His quiet voice echoed from wall to wall before fading into a silenced whisper that continued in the minds of everyone around him.

Then every person in the whole hall picked up a copy of _The Scarlett Letter_ simultaneously, as if possessed, and began reading.

* * *

The first page showed another picture of Scarlett, this time in a red thong. Her body had become decidedly manlike all of the sudden, from her broad muscled shoulders and hairy chest to her large feet and solid legs. Across this page was splashed the words "I HAVE A SECRET."

The next page was a block of text with one picture at the bottom. It read thus:

_The moment for truth has come. For over two weeks now every one of you in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry have been enthralled by me. Yes, girls and teachers, I mean you, too. Whether your main goal these past weeks has been to lay me or to lay me low, you all just couldn't put me out of your thoughts._

_I can't believe it took you guys so long to figure me out. I congratulate the one boy who noticed the erratic patterns in my erotic photos and spread the information to the rest of the school. You're smarter than the rest of this rabble that's been drooling over my supposed pictures for the past few weeks._

_So, what with this new development, I figured it was time to come clean. This vulgar farce is over. For I am not the Scarlett you think I am. See the picture below, and you will know my true identity._

At the bottom of the page was the photograph. It showed a pale-faced man who bore long, blond hair and a sneer of particular superiority.

That man was Lucius Malfoy.

The newsletter continued on the next page:

_Now that I am about to leave Scarlett behind, I must give one last round of thanks. You guys have given me so much amusement. I constantly gaze at the luscious bodies in all the juicy photographs you guys sent me. Then I imagine some very naughty stuff for extended periods of time._

_To Colin Creevey, Terry Boot, Seamus Finnegan, and Dean Thomas: thank you for starting my fan club and inviting me to this school. I was quite tickled by all the nice stuff you said about me._

_To Pansy Parkinson, Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, Romilda Vane, and Daphne Greengrass: thank you for running The Conspiracy. This lent me hours of endless amusement. I loved watching you guys try and best me, when all I did to make my newsletter was to plagiarize photos from a variety of porn magazines._

_To the staff at Hogwarts: thank you for providing so much resistance, thus creating some delicious friction to balance out all the excitement. I especially thank you for asking me not to come to Hogwarts, because now I have the chance to show you that I can and will go against your requests. Ah, what fun!_

_To Gregory Goyle: I love you! . . . or at least your body. I spent a longer time gazing at your photos than I did anyone else's. Too bad I never got to fulfill my To Do List—we would have had so much fun together! Oh well, I guess I'll have to go back to using my imagination._

_This wonderful bit of fun is over. I now only have a bunch of photos and my house-elves to keep me amused. That is, until I go to the gentleman's club tonight. Thank you so much, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, for everything you have given me. It was my pleasure to give so much back._

_Hugs and kisses,_

_Lucius Malfoy_

The next page showed a truly disgusting picture of Lucius Malfoy in a tight red thong, his hips swung outward and his lips puckered up in a kiss. Afterwards were a few nude shots, which fully showed how out-of-shape and undesirable Lucius really was. Then the seventh and last issue of _The Scarlett Letter_ was over.

* * *

For a long while there was silence in the hall. There were more than enough copies of the newsletter to go around, and in five minutes every boy, girl, and teacher had read Scarlett's horrible secret.

Seamus was the first to speak. "This is outrageous!" he cried. "What was she playing at?!"

"_He_," Colin corrected glumly.

"UGH!!!" Seamus screeched in reply. "That's so disgusting! Why the hell would _Lucius Malfoy_ do something like that?!?"

"And now he has all my pictures!" Terry wailed. "Ewww, he's been looking at every one of them! And he probably masturbated on them, too! The fucking pervert!! I hate him!"

The teachers were still too shocked to take off points from Ravenclaw for Terry's outburst. McGonagall was mouthing wordlessly at the Lucius' nude pictures. Flitwick's eyes were practically hanging out of his head. Professor Vector was trying her gamely best to appear pleased at this new development instead of severely disappointed. Dumbledore, however, look quite delighted.

"Wait. . . so. . . ugh!" Euan Abercrombie couldn't manage much more than that. The first- and second-years pretended to throw up into their lunches. The older students, however, were much more vocal.

"That disgusting pervert ought to be arrested!" Justin Finch-Fletchley said furiously. "He's a danger to the students!"

"Yeah, he might rape the younger ones who aren't old enough to defend themselves!" Dennis put in, thoroughly overexcited.

"_I_ can't keep from laughing!" Parvati told them both. "Serves you guys right, trusting a total stranger like that!"

And so the conversation went. Many of The Conspirators couldn't help but laugh and gag at the same time over the thought of Lucius Malfoy being the real Scarlett. The boys, however, were steaming mad and quite outraged over the whole thing. The teacher, after they had gotten over their initial shock, were getting used to the idea of Lucius being behind the whole thing. Already Flitwick and McGonagall were planning his demise in all its colorfully ugly detail.

One person, however, wasn't joining in the conversation. Gregory Goyle lay sunk to the floor, sobbing pitifully. A throbbing ache such as he never felt before filled his chest. He rubbed at his tears with the milk-sodden napkin, but the poor cloth was already so soaked that it only made his face even wetter.

"Gregory?" He looked up and saw, through his waterlogged vision, that Pansy stood above him. A soft shine glistened on her smooth cheeks, and a light filled her beautiful black eyes. To Gregory, she looked like an angel.

"I thought she loved me," Gregory moaned softly as more tears pooled in her eyes. "But she doesn't."

"You'll have to get over it, Gregory," Pansy said softly, her voice surprisingly comforting. "She isn't real."

Gregory's sobs grew louder. "She was to me," he managed to choke out. His chest heaved up and down

with each new flood of tears.

Pansy gazed at him pityingly, then took him in her arms. For a long while Gregory cried into her shoulder, his sobs muffled by her robes. She waited patiently for him to calm down, but embraced him willingly. "Okay, it's time to dry those tears," she said a while later. "We're going up to the Slytherin common room to write a long, nasty letter to Lucius Malfoy. To do that, we can't be sad—we have to be mad!"

"Okay," Gregory agreed, his voice thick. He wiped his last tears on his sleeve as he stood up. "Wait," he said suddenly. "What about Draco?"

"What about him?" Pansy said. There was little bitterness in her voice—only a tinge amidst her otherwise neutral expression.

"Well, won't he be humiliated by all this?" Gregory said. "Won't he be crushed by his dad's behavior?"

Pansy took one glance over at Draco, who was talking excitedly to Blaise and Theodore, and said, "He doesn't look crushed to me. If anything, he looks overjoyed."

"Okay," Gregory said. "Then let's leave." So they headed for the door to the Entrance Hall. They were barely ten feet from it when the gigantic clock near the Infirmary tolled the arrival of the half-hour. At that moment, the door before them swung open, and the board governors entered to lunch in the Great Hall, as Dumbledore had requested during their meeting. Lucius was in the lead, looking very much like he had just passed another few limiting decrees against the school.

Pansy and Gregory stopped short and stared at him. The rest of the students followed their lead, and for a long moment everyone in the Great Hall gazed at Lucius with wide, angry eyes.

Then Pansy grabbed a sausage from a nearby platter at the Slytherin table and threw it straight at Lucius. It hit him square in his gaping mouth and lodged itself in his throat. "HA!" Pansy shrieked as the blond-haired man bent over double as he choked out the sausage. "THERE'S SOMETHING FOR YOU TO SUCK ON!"

Lucius turned to Pansy, fury flashing in his cold gray eyes. "How. . ._dare_. . . you?!?" he hissed as he pulled forth his wand. He advanced towards the Slytherin girl, who curled her lip defiantly at him.

He didn't get a step farther. A large egg sailed through the air from the direction of the Gryffindor table and splashed across his face. He stood rooted to the spot in shock.

"TAKE _THIS_, PEDOPHILE!" Katie Bell cried as she threw a treacle tart at Lucius. It hit him in the stomach.

Nothing could stop what happened next. Every student in Hogwarts reached for the nearest plate and started throwing food at Lucius Malfoy. Each missile was accompanied by a personal insult.

"I HOPE YOU CHOKE ON VOLDEMORT DURING YOUR NEXT DEATH EATER DEBAUCHERY!!" A bundle of grapes hit his cheek.

"SHOVE YOUR WAND UP YOUR ASS AND DIE!" A long sprig of celery coated with peanut butter slammed itself against his chest.

"IF YOU GOVORNERS HAD ANY SENSE, YOU WOULD HAVE GOTTEN RID OF THIS PERVERT LONG AGO!" A steaming shepherd's pie flew straight in his face.

"GO JUMP IN A LAKE! YOU _SAID_ YOU WANTED TO FUCK A MERMAID!!" An empty, greasy platter hit him straight in the groin.

"NO, NO, NO!" Hermione cried. "THE HOUSE-ELVES WITH HAVE TO CLEAN THIS _ALL_ UP!" But then she took a particularly large watermelon and Banished it with a wave of her wand. It hit Lucius in the gut. "SCORE!"

Everybody got into the spirit of things. Gregory threw a butter dish, a soup tureen, and a pitcher of cream at the pervert of a school governor. Seamus and Dean had a competition to see who would hit Lucius the most times. And Ron later told anyone who would listen that he had thrown no less than thirty-one food dishes at the blond-haired Death Eater—no, thirty-five—no, forty-seven—no, fifty-eight. . .

The other school governors jumped out of the range of fire. They ended up amongst the students, where they wrestled the remaining bits of food from the boys and girls, then took their own turns aiming and firing at the soon-to-be-ex-governor Malfoy. Even the teachers hurled their own missiles and insults at Malfoy. McGonagall managed to plug him in the crotch with a stream of lemonade. Flitwick charmed a teacup to bite Lucius's butt each time he tried to bat it away. And for many years Dumbledore would recall how he Spelled the knife that sliced neatly down the middle of Lucius's pants and left him in his underwear.

Colin, meanwhile, had pulled out his camera and was documenting the whole thing on film. With each mad click he caught Lucius Malfoy in increasingly embarrassing poses and situations. Lucius tried to stumbled away from the incessant flashing, but kept getting knocked down by another barrage of food with each attempt.

At long last the degraded governor reached the door. "WE HAVE ALL THE ANSWERS NOW!" Roger shrieked after him. "YOU'RE GONNA BE RUINED—WE'LL MAKE SURE OF IT!!" Then Lucius pushed open the double doors as was gone.

Everyone in the hall broke into cheers. Clearly it wasn't simply the Gryffindors and the teachers that were glad to see the last of him. Even the Slytherins and the school governors were applauding their massive joint effort in humiliating Voldemort's worst Death Eater. Never had the whole school been in such a good mood, not even when the Chamber of Secrets closed four years ago.

At the Gryffindor table Ron turned to Harry and Hermione. "Well, that was unexpected," he said, grinning widely. "I haven't had so much fun since I snogged Hermione last night!"

"Be discreet, Ron," Hermione reprimanded him. "Oh, and thanks for letting me use your invisibility cloak, Harry." She pulled the silvery cloak from her bag and handed it across the table to her raven-haired friend.

"No problem," Harry said as he stuffed the cloak into his own schoolbag. "What'd you use it for?"

"A good cause," Hermione answered evasively.

Before Harry got a chance to ask what good cause Hermione was talking about, Parvati appeared in their midst. "We gave that whore what she—er, _he_—deserved, didn't we?" she said excitedly.

"We most certainly did," Hermione said with wry smile. "I don't think Scarlett will haunt this school any longer."

"Good riddance!" Parvati said empathetically. "I was getting so sick—wait!" she stopped and suddenly looked perplexed. "How could this all be correct?"

"What do you mean?" Hermione said swiftly.

"Scarlett was supposed to be your _friend_!" Parvati cried accusingly. "How could _Lucius Malfoy_ be matey with you? You're Muggleborn!"

"Ah," Hermione said. "As a matter of fact, I _do_ have a friend named Scarlett. She is a very beautiful girl who did indeed go to my primary school and who did indeed become a privately-tutored witch. However, she was never a porn star. We found out that Lucius Malfoy had stolen her identity—he was pretending to be _her_."

Parvati's eyes widened. "That's a serious offense, that is!" she said, her voice hushed. "What did you guys do about it?"

"We uncovered him," Hermione said. "Ginny, Scarlett, and I published today's issue of the newsletter to get back at him."

"Wow!" Parvati whispered, staring at her with hero-worship in her gaze. "How in the world did you manage that?"

Ginny appeared at Hermione's shoulder. "Ah, we couldn't have done it by ourselves," she said. "We had inside help."

Parvati cocked her head to one side. "Inside help?" she said pensively. "Who would that be?"

"Draco Malfoy," Hermione said. "He sent us each and every photo in this last edition of the magazine. Without him, today's newsletter would not have been possible. We owe the destruction of _The Scarlett Letter_ all to him."

"To. . . to _Draco Malfoy_?" Parvati said as a comprehension dawned in her eyes. "So he isn't like his father after all!"

"No, he isn't," Ginny said warmly. "In fact, deep down he's quite the opposite. It'll only take a dedicated woman to bring out the best in him."

And they left Parvati in deep thought. Harry watched Hermione's and Ginny's retreating backs and shook his head in amusement.

* * *

Up at the teachers' table Dumbledore smiled down at his students. McGonagall and Flitwick had gathered around him to stare out at the sea of food and magazines, both smiling and holding hands.

He looked out at the students again and tried to hide a superiority in his smile. "See, Minerva?" he said. "I told you something good would come out of this disaster."

McGonagall's heart was even lighter than Flitwick. What with Scarlett gone and Lucius publicly humiliated, how could she not be happy? "I was still right to try and put a stop to it," she said, unable to hide her grin.

"I expect you to help me spread this story to the press, then," Dumbledore said.

"Agreed," McGonagall agreed. "Filius and I will make sure that he loses all his standing in proper society."

"Oh good," Dumbledore said. "I'm feeling cheerful enough to make a speech." And he stood up in his chair.

"No, Albus!" McGonagall cried out quickly. "Please. . . no. The students will figure out the moral to this incident by themselves; we needn't hammer it into their skulls."

"Oh?" Dumbledore said, a bit disappointed to lose his speech. "At least let me give Miss Granger and Miss Weasley awards for special services to the school."

"Whatever for?" Flitwick said, confused.

"Special services to the school," Dumbledore repeated, slowly and clearly. "What else for?"

----------

Lucuis Malfoy, poor creature, got so much mail that afternoon that it took him past midnight to wade through it all. Just a few letters among the many:

_Lucius Malfoy,_

_You are fucking disgusting, and I hate you. I still can't believe you invented that hideous magazine—what kind of messed-up pervert does that?! I demand my money back!_

_Seamus Finnegan  
_

* * *

_Lucius,_

_Okay, you're not wicked sick—you're just sick. You are absolutely icky. I don't know if you've heard, but it's recently fallen out of fashion for forty-year-olds to chase after school-age children; it hasn't happened in England for over 100 years. Of course you're a narrow-minded Pureblood, so you might still think it's in style. But then there's another problem: this style of pedophiliac cradle-robbing has never been in fashion between two men. So it can't be your Pureblooded shit—you're just very wonky in the head. Oh, and I'll be needing my money back. ALL of it. You're filthy rich; you can afford it._

_Terry Boot_

_P.S. What exactly do you do with your house-elves??  
_

* * *

_Dear Mr. Malfoy,_

_First things first: I thought you were evil and scary, but now I just see you as yucky and ridiculous. I can't believe you'd trick us like that! It shows just how mean you are. I still can't believe you were so dumb as to reveal this last issue of _The Scarlett Letter_. You could have made some more excuses, or simply backed out altogether. But why reveal your idiotic scheme? I thought you were supposed to be a cunning Slytherin. I guess cunting Slytherin would be more accurate._

_Oh, and what's your thing with Harry? You're obviously a Death Eater, so you should hate him. But he's on the top of your To Do List. Why is that? Is sex stronger than your loyalties? I'll bet it is, you sicko. I demand my money back._

_Sincerely,_

_Colin Creevey  
_

* * *

_Lucius,_

_I absolutely hate you. I thought you loved me, but now I realize that it was all lust. You enjoyed playing your little games with me, what with all your seductive notes and appealing schemes. But now I write to tell you this: it's all over. However much you wished for it, you will never get to have sex with me—ever. I'm Pansy's boyfriend now, and I'm staying faithful to her. Heck, I'm not going to even LOOK at another girl, much less you. You're a crazy, nasty pedophile, and I hope you get a thousand life sentences in Azkaban. Go make out with a Dementor, you sick freak. But give me my money back before you do._

_Goyle_

* * *

The worst letter of all, however, Lucius found during dinner, tacked to his place at the head of the grand mahogany dining hall table. It was a howler from his wife. As soon as he touched it, it burst open and shrieked its message throughout the entire Malfoy Manor:

_Lucius,_

_I'M GOING TO BE HONEST WITH YOU. I ABSOLUTELY DESPISE YOU. YOUR RIDICULOUS ANTICS HAVE CARRIED ON FOR FAR TOO LONG. IF YOU HAVEN'T NOTICED, NOBODY LIKES DEATH EATERS ANYMORE, THANKS MOSTLY TO DUMBLEDORE AND HARRY POTTER. YOUR PERSISTENT ASSOCIATION WITH VOLDEMORT HAS REALLY MUDDIED THE MALFOY'S PUBLIC NAME FOR THE PAST FEW DECADES. YOU CAN DEGRADE YOUR OWN REPUTATION AS MUCH AS YOU WISH AND I WON'T STOP YOU, BUT I REFUSE TO LET YOU DRAG ME DOWN AS WELL!_

_YOU'RE ALSO JUST AN AWFUL HUSBAND. YOU'RE COLDER THAN AN ICICLE, AND YOUR IDEAS ARE EVEN MADDER THAN THOSE OF THAT CRAZY HOUSE-ELF DOBBY THAT YOU LOST US. YOU NEVER SPEAK TO ME ANYMORE—I SOMETIMES THINK YOU'D RATHER GO TO SLEEP WITH VOLDEMORT THAN WITH YOUR OWN WIFE. YOU'RE ALSO A BAD FATHER. ALL THOSE RIDICULOUS DECREES THAT YOU'VE FORCED THE SCHOOL GOVERNORS TO PASS AT HOGWARTS HAVE GREATLY COMPROMISED MY SWEET DRACO'S EDUCATION._

BUT THE LAST STRAW CAME TODAY WHEN DRACO SENT ME A LETTER DETAILING YOUR EMBARRASSING INVOLVEMENT WITH YOUR PORN MAGAZINE, THE SCARLETT LETTER. IN THE PAST I HAVE SECRETLY GIVEN YOU MANY NASTY NAMES, BUT GAY PEDOPHILE WAS NEVER ONE OF THEM. I COULD HAVE TAKEN THE NEWS THAT YOU WERE GAY—SO MANY OTHERS ARE COMING OUT THE CLOSET NOWADAYS. IT MAY HAVE TAKEN A WHILE GETTING USED TO THE IDEA THAT I MARRIED SOMEONE WHO DOESN'T WANT TO HAVE SEX WITH ME, BUT I WOULD HAVE EVENTUALLY GOTTEN OVER IT. HOWEVER, I CANNOT EVER GET USED TO THE IDEA THAT YOU ARE AN OVEREAGER CHILD-OGLER! WHAT WITH THE HOMOSEXUALITY, I NOW REALIZE THAT YOU'RE MORE LIKELY TO HAVE SEX WITH DRACO THAN WITH ME!

SO I'M TELLING YOU THAT I WON'T STAND FOR IT. I'M LEAVING, AND I'M TAKING DRACO WITH ME SO THAT YOU WON'T FORCE YOURSELF ON HIM. THEN I'M FILING FOR DIVORCE, AND TAKING AS MUCH AS I CAN WITH ME! BUT EVEN IF YOU GET THE MANOR, DRACO AND I CAN SURVIVE JUST FINE IN THE WIZARDING WORLD. WE HAVE A MYRIAD OF PUREBLOOD RELATIVES THAT AREN'T DEATH EATERS, INCLUDING ANDROMEDA BLACK TONKS. YES, WE'D STOOP TO LIVING WITH HER MUGGLE-BORN HUSBAND IF WE HAD TO! WHY SHOULD WE BE ASHAMED TO DO SO, WHEN THE TOP STUDENT IN DRACO'S YEAR IS THAT BUCK-TOOTHED GRANGER?

YOU'RE TOO LOW TO EVEN DESERVE MY HATRED! I WON'T STAND YOUR FARCICAL IDEOLOGIES ANY LONGER! AND IF YOU'RE STILL CONFUSED, I'M GOING TO MAKE IT VERY CLEAR TO YOU: I QUIT THIS BITCH.

* * *

Around noon, the Daily Prophet got a letter in a large, golden envelope that bore the Hogwarts crest:

_Dear Sirs and Madams:_

_Enclosed in this envelope is the story of the year. It is a ruinous documentation on Lucius Malfoy and his most recent escapades at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It is a scandal and a sensation that involves a prominent public figure._

_Lucius Malfoy may try to buy you off so that you don't print this story. We at Hogwarts strongly discourage you from accepting his bribes—a story like this comes only once in a lifetime, and it would be loath of you not to take the chance this opportunity provides. It will make you more money than Malfoy could ever give you. If you don't print this story, the smaller magazines will snap it up before you do and make a lot of money in the process (none of us have forgotten _The Quibbler's_ controversial interview with Harry Potter last year)._

_We sincerely hope you take this chance and publish this story._

_With the best of wishes,_

_Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Filius Flitwick, Charms Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Verity Vector, Arithmancy Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Even Minister Fudge received a few letters during the evening of this busy day_  
_

* * *

_Memo to Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic_

_From The British Wizarding Institution of Pornography:_

_Doubtless you have heard rumors of Lucius Malfoy's most recent escapades. It has recently come to light that he was posing as Scarlett, who was to be our lead star in our business. Without her, we cannot get started. No other witch was willing to play the lead role in so many movies. Along with her we have also lost every one of her fans. It is with sincere regret that we must inform you of our termination. We need you to sign the enclosed form that mandates Lucuis Malfoy to return the advance we mistakenly sent him. We also recommend jail time.  
_

* * *

_Dear Sir:_

_I'm a bit confused and frightened. Why did you have sex with Lucius Malfoy? He wrote all about the incident in his fake magazine, _The Scarlett Letter. _It's no wonder that he gets so much done at the Ministry of Magic. Not only does he buy you off with money, but he buys you off with sex! I don't know if I can trust a Minister who is as corrupt as this. Please reconsider your qualifications for our nation's most important office._

_Sincerely,_

_Euan Abercrombie_

* * *

The last notable letter of the day came to Snape late during dinner. The stationery and the envelope smelled slightly of lady's perfume:

_Dear Severus,_

_I have heard many praises about you from my son Draco. From the sound of it, you're an upstanding gentleman and a truly competent professor. It's hard to find a proper gentleman who is also a teacher nowadays, so, needless to say, I am quite interested in meeting you. Perhaps I could see you next Friday at 8:00 P.M. for a parent-teacher conference at Hogwarts. I hope you have the time, because I would very much appreciate speaking with you._

_Please reply. I looking forward to getting to know you better._

_With due sincerity,_

_Narcissa_

----------

That evening the teachers had a small party in the staff room, not only to celebrate _The Scarlett Letter's_ demise, but also to celebrate Lucius Malfoy's downfall. Flitwick and McGonagall organized a modest feast with the help of the house-elves. Vector took charge of the decorating, and in fifteen minutes she had covered the room in multi-colored party streamers and clouds of thick, blue bubbles that refused to pop.

As the staff settled down with platefuls of food and goblets of wine, Dumbledore pulled out the last issue of _The Scarlett Letter_ and began flipping through it for the hundredth time that day. "What a to-do this has been," he remarked calmly as he surveyed the photos with a keen eye. "I think I'll frame the picture of Lucius in a thong and put it up in my office so that I can remember today's events forever and ever."

"_No_, Albus," Minerva said firmly. "Remember this day in any way but that." She wasn't yet tipsy enough to withhold a severe glare.

"Believe me, I will," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "With any luck, the documentation that you and Flitwick wrote will be published tomorrow morning.

"We had the most fun writing it," Flitwick said, flashing McGonagall a quick smile. "And we gave Mr. Creevey 100 points and 100 galleons for the rights to his photos. Is it okay that we dramatized a few moments?"

"As in exaggerated?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling. "Why, certainly—though I can't see how you could have done _that_. The whole thing was quite unbelievable as it was."

McGonagall took a small sip of wine from her glass. "Unbelievable or not, once tomorrow's issue of _The Daily Prophet _arrives, you'll have something that I _will_ allow you to frame on your wall."

After this, the staff proceeded in getting quite drunk. Professor Sinistra and Hagrid performed a noisy rendition of the school song. Flitwick and McGonagall began an energetic bout of footsie, and Dumbledore read lengthy passages out of his favorite Muggle book in a very loud voice. Nobody paid him any attention, as they had heard all of Lady Chatterley's escapades too many times to count.

McGonagall interrupted her game of footsie to go to the bathroom. As she rushed from the room, her hand pressed against her crotch as if to hold back the flood bursting to come forth, Professor Vector took her place beside Flitwick. "Hey, Filius," she said. She wasn't as intoxicated as the other teachers, so her voice still wavered a bit in hesitation.

Professor Flitwick looked up, a confused expression suddenly flitting across his drunken demeanor. "Oh, it's you," he said dully.

"Yeah," Vector said. "Look, I'm. . . I'm sorry about. . . about, you know—"

"I won't know until you tell me," Flitwick said, a bit impatiently.

Vector hemmed and hawed a bit more before finishing in a rush. "Um, for. . . um. . . I'm sorry for getting mad at you simply because you asked me out, er, too many times."

"Oh," Flitwick said showing barely any emotion. "Oh. Okay. It's alright."

"Yeah, guess so," Vector said. "Especially now that. . . I mean to say, am I wrong, or are you and Minerva together now?"

Flitwick blushed slightly. "Um, we're going on a date on Valentine's Day," he mumbled, not quite meeting her eye.

Vector smiled. "I'm happy for you," she said. "Minerva's hot."

"Yeah, she is," Flitwick agreed, apparently finding nothing out of the ordinary with Vector's comment.

Vector shifted her feet uncomfortably. "Yeah. . ." she repeated as she took another sip from her wine glass. "Yeah, good luck to both of you. See you later." And she quickly slipped back into the party.

----------

At five minutes to eight the halls were already mostly empty. The boys were gathering in the Gryffindor common room for the final meeting of Scarlett's Fan Club. At the same time the girls were preparing a conference of their own in the Room of Requirement.

Only a few stragglers still remained in the corridors. Vincent Crabbe was one of them. He was on his way through the darkened entrance hall when he suddenly ran into Eloise Midgen.

"Hi, Vincent," Eloise said. Her pimples shone softly in the moonlight that spilled in through the rippling windows in front of her.

"Eloise," Vincent simply, and he leaned forward and gave her a quick, promising kiss on the lips. "Are we still on for the Astronomy Tower tonight?"

"After the meetings," Eloise said with an anticipant smile.

Vincent smiled back. "What're you girls going to be talking about tonight?"

"I don't quite know," Eloise said truthfully. "They'll probably be all excited at Scarlett's miserable failure. Gosh, I hope we don't go on for too long on that same subject."

Vincent smiled wryly. "And I hope I won't have to listen to the boys moaning about the exact same thing for an hour. It'd be nice if we actually got something productive done."

Eloise laughed lightly. It was a soft, silvery laugh that sent Vincent's heart racing. "Not likely," she said. She gave him another kiss, this time longer and deeper. After a few moments she began to pull away, but Vincent held her closer and pressed his lips against hers for a while longer, savoring her sweet taste and her warm breath amidst his own.

When they drew away from each other he still held her by the shoulders, his gaze interlocked with hers. "Listen, d'you. . . d'you want to make this relationship, er, official?" he asked nervously. "I mean, like actually go out on dates and let the rest of the school know about us? It didn't seem like a good idea at first—except that something's happened by now. The houses seem to be. . . closer, like they wouldn't mind if a Hufflepuff was dating a Slytherin."

Eloise thought for a moment, her expression pensive. She pulled Vincent a bit nearer to herself and said, "You know, I think you're right. I don't believe that the students would mind us going out any longer. In fact, I even heard Parvati talking _nicely_ about Malfoy today. Not _too_ nicely, mind you, but at least as if she didn't mind him any longer."

With her words a smile spread across Vincent's lips. "I agree," he said at last. "I do believe a new age has come upon Hogwarts." And he gave her one last kiss before they parted.

* * *

Three minutes later Vincent slipped into the Gryffindor common room with a secret smile on his face. He was just in time to see Colin come forward to the center of the group.

The mood in the room was very somber, almost as if someone had died. The boys didn't speak much, nor had they bothered to put up any more Scarlett banners. Yet, amidst their gravity was a tinge of anger, a resentment at Lucius Malfoy's trickery.

"So. . ." Colin said softly. "So. . . Scarlett was a fake."

The boys grumbled angrily. The words "Lucius Malfoy" and "pervert" were more prominent than others.

Colin cleared his throat nervously, and the crowd quieted down. "We've already sent him a good dose of hate mail," Colin said. "But now what? We can only do so much to him."

"We'll just have to hope that the Ministry fines his ass when they discover everything he did!" Seamus bitterly. "To think that he could trick _us_. . .! Ugh, I almost feel ashamed at the thought!"

"He should have never gotten the best of us like that!" Blaise agreed. "Why did he even have to take Scarlett away from us? He could have easily thought of some excuse to please us, then continued the stupid newsletter."

"But what have we lost, anyway?" Vincent butted in. "_The Scarlett Letter_ is gone. What of it?"

"We've lost a phenomenon!" Blaise cried in distress. "Scarlett was the most exciting thing of the year, and now it's vanished! Even her supposed movies are gone!"

"But do we _need_ Scarlett?" Vincent asked him. "There's about. . ." (here he took a few moments to count on his fingers) "one hundred and forty girls in this school. Wouldn't it be better to have a real girl than simply a. . . a Scarlett?"

"But she looks _so hot!_" Seamus moaned. "I wanted her to be mine!"

"If she was real," Roger Davies put in, "some of us just might have gotten her laid. But she would never have been ours. She isn't the type to stay with any one boy. Once she'd finish banging us, she'd probably hop out of one bed and into another—literally. At least the girls here at Hogwarts don't prostitute themselves like Scarlett would."

Seamus grumbled a little and scuffed at the floor with his toe. "I _guess _that could be a good thing," he admitted, "but that doesn't help matters, because the girls still hate us! They've tried so hard to get our attention, but we didn't even take notice. Now they'll stop trying altogether!"

"The girls have tried long enough!" Dennis cried from the midst of the crowd. "Now it's our turn to get _their_ attention!"

"But how?" Seamus rejoined. "We can't make any nudie pics like they can! They'd think we were being gross."

"Then we have to figure out another way," Colin said reasonably. "Something that they'd truly appreciate. . ."

"Something that they wouldn't forget. . ." Gregory piped up.

"Something they wouldn't expect. . ." Blaise put in.

"Everyone says chivalry is dead," Draco said slowly, "so why don't we show them that it isn't? _That_ would certainly surprise them."

"Yeah, especially coming from you," Seamus muttered, though with little animosity.

"So we're supposed to be polite to them or something?" Euan asked, a little confused. "Aren't we already?"

"Maybe," Colin said, "but this time we'll try extra hard."

"It's a good idea," said Euan, "but it doesn't sound like much of plan. Shouldn't we also think up something special for them?"

Colin pursed his lips pensively. "You're possibly right," he said. "We'd just have to figure out what."

"Maybe would could do a special breakfast on Valentine's Day," Euan suggested. "We could go to Dumbledore to get help setting it up, and we can make sure the house-elves make some yummy dishes, and then we're all set up."

"Mmm, that's passable," Blaise conceded, "but we need more than good food. That's the way to a boy's heart, not a girl's. We also need some special features, like some enchanting music to serenade them while they eat, or host of waiters to slave for them, or some extra-special modifications to the Great Hall. We want something that will stick in their minds, not their bellies."

The boys seemed to brighten up as they began their plans for the special Valentine's Day breakfast. As their ideas grew more elaborate and inspired, they slowly forgot about the reason why they met in the first place. Scarlett was merely a memory in the back of their minds. They were moving on.

* * *

In the Room of Requirement the girls held their own meeting. As they first entered the room they could barely contain their excitement over the day's events. They sank into their beanbag couches with broad smiles splitting their faces.

The leaders made their way to the platform in the middle of the room. They each sported large grins, though Pansy's was the brightest. "Scarlett's _gone_!" she announced triumphantly to the excited crowd. They let out a loud cheer that bounced off the walls and amplified itself inside the large meeting hall.

After the girls had let out their jubilee, Pansy continued. "Now that our resident whore and her magazine are out of business, we have the boys all to ourselves!" This elicited another cheer.

"But won't they be fed up with all our failed schemes?" Eloise asked from the midst of the crowd once everyone had quieted down. "First there was our little magazine, then our disaster of a nude photo shoot. Then there was all our jealous conversation over Scarlett's runaway success. They're probably sick of our efforts."

Her brutally realistic comment was the perfect way to puncture the bubble. The excitement whooshed out of the room, leaving behind a rather flat, depressed audience. "She's right," Padma said glumly. "The boys won't want to see another one of our schemes."

"Not even another magazine?" Lavender hazarded.

"I guess not," Parvati said, seeing the look on her sister's face.

"What about another nude photo shoot?" Luna asked hopefully.

"Do you really think that would actually work?" Pansy asked incredulously.

"No," Luna answered promptly. "But can we do it anyway? I'm sure the veilabats would approve."

"Seeing as Scarlett was such a veilabat, we're definitely not following _their_ example again!" Daphne said firmly. "Look what happened to Scarlett! She turned out to be Lucius Malfoy!"

"Good point," Luna said sadly. "Any other suggestions?"

There was a long silence as the girls pondered the situation. Any scheme involving their bodies wasn't likely to work any more. They had tried that with their magazine, and look at what a failure _that_ had been! Good grief, what could they offer the boys if they wouldn't take the hint with a bit of skin?

"There was one idea you suggested, Luna," Pansy said suddenly. The girls leaned forward on their beanbag couches to listen.

"Was there?" Luna said mildly.

"Yes," Pansy said. "It was a few meetings ago. Something about Quidditch. . ."

"A Quidditch tournament?" Luna prompted her. "Yes, I remember suggesting that. But I thought we already agreed that that was too loony?"

Pansy shook her head violently. "Oh, no!" she said firmly. "Now's the time for drastic action! Nothing is too loony at this point!" The girls muttered in agreement.

"Quidditch tournament it is, then," Luna said happily. "That'll take a while to bring about."

"All the more reason to start now," Pansy said. And that is just what they did.

----------

At midnight the girls were still planning the Quidditch tournament, the boys were still arranging ideas for the Valentine's Day breakfast, and Eloise and Vincent had sneaked out to begin their snogging session in the Astronomy Tower. It was at this moment that a snowy owl delivered a letter to Scarlett:

_Dear Scarlett,_

_Today we got all the answers. Even so, things are not always as they seem. I still expect you to meet me a week from now at 7:00 P.M. in the courtyard by the portico off the bridge. I have some issues I need to discuss with you. And remember—I only want part of you. Make sure it's the right part!_

_Love,_

_Harry Potter_

**A/N: **PLEASE NOTE: The story is NOT over! Harry is right—things are not always as they seem. Next chapter shorter than even the first, and it will wrap up all the loose ends that still hang. Oh, and there still might be another surprise or two. Afterwards, I'll tell you all about the real-life story of Scarlett. Woot!

Oh, and since you all have doubtless followed my command at the end of Chapter 5 and read and watched _A Clockwork Orange_, you now must go read _Lady Chatterley's Lover_ by D. H. Lawrence. Most of you who are old enough to be grandparents will probably remember the huge censorship court case that it had in 1959 (or was it 1960?). Written in 1928, it's the best erotic novel of all time, and I can't help but wonder why people cram themselves full of cheap paperback romances when this book outstrips them in every category—from the deep characterization to the solid plot to the gorgeoulicious dialogue. Oh, and for those of you who just want to read it for the sex (shame on you, if that's the case grin), you won't be disappointed either.

That's it for now. I'm posting the last chapter next weekend, so keep posted!


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: JK is the one with the billion dollars, not me.

**Chapter Nine**

**A Scarlett Epilogue: Things Are Not Always As They Seem**

A week later. Most of the older students had gathered in the library after school for a spot of studying. Hermione and Ginny were among them. The red-headed girl was flipping through her _Advanced Transfiguration, Level 5_. The bushy-haired witch was busy looking up cross-references in a gigantic tome entitled _Magical Fungi of Central Asia_.

Ginny's gaze eventually wandered away from her textbook and towards the various people that populated the library. A group of Slytherins and Ravenclaws studied Charms around a thick oaken table near a large window. Seamus coached two first-year Slytherin girls through one of their basic spells between the shelves of books. Pansy tutored Gregory patiently through a particularly difficult potions assignment, and Gregory listened intently. None of them spoke above a whisper.

Watching the scene before her, Ginny couldn't help but smile. Everyone was getting along so perfectly—and she knew exactly who had allowed for that.

She pulled out a fresh piece of parchment and began scribbling a note:

_Hermy, have you yet stopped to notice Scarlett's handiwork?_

Ginny tapped Hermione on the shoulder. "What?" the witch replied, not paying much attention. "I'm trying to study here." But she took the note anyway and read it through. She couldn't help but smiling.

_I did indeed notice._

She handed the parchment back to Ginny and returned to her book.

_It still surprises me what one single porn star was able to do to Hogwarts_.

When Ginny pushed the note to Hermione as second time, she carefully laid aside her thick volume with a shake of her head and took up the parchment.

_It's amazing how some things turn out, Ginny. What seemed like a small tool meant to teach a lesson became a big phenomenon like nothing before. Absolutely stunning. . ._

_And the outcome! I never expected such benefits, Hermione, I really didn't. Not only did _The Scarlett Letter_ manage to sack Lucius Malfoy as a school governor AGAIN, but it also made him lose every bit of standing he had in good society._

_Ha, especially after the _Daily Prophet_ arrived last Saturday! It drew out every embarrassing aspect of the whole thing to its utmost potential. Everyone—the Hogwarts parents especially—thinks that Lucius Malfoy is a perverted pedophile. Lucius Malfoy the Death Eater they could handle—but this. . ._

_Not a chance. Aw, they're afraid he'll rape their ickle kiddies. Though I'll bet he did worse at the Death Eater saturnalias._

_Ugh, Ginny, don't let's talk about that before dinner!_

_Speaking of Death Eaters, you do know that he was their major source of money and influence._

_Emphasis on "was." Fudge won't even speak to him now. He's raging furious that Lucius wrote about them having sex in _The Scarlett Letter._ Though that might also have to do with Scarlett comparing his member to a tiny link sausage :)_

_Haha! Fudge fined him something awful for that particular libel. That's on top of all the other fines. He had to send back his 500,000 galleon advance from BWIP, as well as an additional 50,000 for violating the contract in such a manner._

_Then there was all the money he had to send back to refund his subscribers. Then the plagiarism fines for all the photos he stole from other porn magazines. How much was that again?_

_Twenty-five thousand galleons a picture. And there were about fifty pictures an issue. It came out to about 10,000,000 galleons in the end, including all the other fines. Lucius kicked up a tremendous fuss over the whole thing. He insists that he didn't make the magazine, that he didn't plagiarize the photos and lust after the youngsters, but nobody believes him. They found a whopping pile of porn in his home that had a good deal of the pages cut out. When the Ministry Aurors got their hands on other copies of the same magazines, they saw that the missing pictures from the originals all appeared in _The Scarlett Letter_! Bad, bad Lucius Malfoy!_

_It's strange how those things happen, Ginny, isn't it? wicked grin_

_Yeah, Hermione. What's even better is that Lucius Malfoy is banned from setting foot inside this school again. Dumbledore didn't even have to beg before the minister pulled a restraining order on old Lucius. The Malfoys can't give this school their shit any longer._

_Not even Draco. If you've noticed, he's actually becoming a better person. He's truly trying to be nice to people now._

_Or at least not so rude. Parvati seems to talk about him more each day, and her comments sound less and less unfavorable all the time._

_All our doing. They'll be a couple by springtime, I guarantee it. Not even the Slytherin-Other House pairing will be such a huge hurdle, seeing as Crabbe and Eloise jumped it before them._

_Gosh, I was just as surprised as the next person when they came out and told everyone. But, as much as I hate to admit it, Slytherin romance seems more appealing with each passing moment. Even Crabbe and Goyle seem more gentlemanly nowadays._

_Why should you hate to admit it, Ginny? It was Scarlett who did it for them. Aren't you proud of her? She made Crabbe and Goyle—especially the latter—realize that good looks aren't everything in a girl. Goyle's stopped ogling everyone except Pansy, who is, incidentally, his girlfriend._

_She sure got over Malfoy surprising quickly._

_I'm sure part of her wanted to prove that she didn't care for him any longer. But I think an even larger part of her knew, long before their break-up, that the relationship wasn't going anywhere. And I think The Conspiracy really helped her cope._

_I think that Conspiracy helped not just her, but every girl in this school. They've finally found a proper way to chase after boys._

_Yeah, Luna told me about the Quidditch tournament they're planning for late March. I'm really quite proud of her for thinking it up. What do you say we help them with it?_

_Great idea. My brother and Harry are helping with the Valentine's Day breakfast the boys are planning. I think it was supposed to be a surprise, but nothing stays a secret at Hogwarts for long, not when half the student body knows about it._

_sniff Those boys learned some real lessons, too, it seems. I'm so proud of Scarlett. I never would have thought she could do all of this._

_Sure, everyone hates her now, but the houses have united in a common cause against her._

_Wait, Ginny, they don't hate Scarlett. They think she doesn't exist. They're united against LUCIUS._

_Oh yeah._

_And that's the best part of it! Lucius didn't write _The Scarlett Letter_! He didn't send messages to those boys, and he didn't collect their photographs for his endless amusement. He didn't receive an advance from BWIP, nor did he receive any funds from the newsletter. So, for comeuppance of all the other stuff he's gotten away with in the past, he had to pay for a whole list of offenses he didn't commit! The REAL Scarlett got away with everything!! Talk about perfect!_

_. . . . . . Yes, perfect. Except for one thing._

_What's that, Ginny?_

_You got Ron, Pansy got Goyle, Malfoy got Parvati, Eloise got Crabbe, Flitwick got McGonagall, etc. Heck, Moaning Myrtle even got Nearly-Headless Nick! But I didn't get Harry._

_I'm really sorry, Ginny. I wish that it didn't happen that way._

_It almost makes me sorry that the entire thing happened in the first place! Sure, everyone got taught a wonderful lesson, but was it worth it if I lost Harry forever because of it?? People talk about the greater good, but I can hardly bring myself to care at times like this. Before the newsletter, I at least had hope. But now, after everything is all said and done, I know that Harry has fully lost interest in me. He still wants to meet with Scarlett tonight!_

_I know, Ginny. I'm sorry. Look, we'll think of something. Remember what Harry said in his letter to Scarlett?_

_Yeah, yeah. "Things are not always as they seem." Sure. But most of the time they are._

----------

That evening Harry was too jittery to sit still during dinner. He shifted about in his seat and tapped his fingers against the side of his glass. He ate half his food with astonishing rapidity, then pushed the other half around his plate, looking both excited and slightly nauseous.

"Anything the matter with you, mate?" Ron asked around a mouthful of roll.

"Nope," Harry answered as he stacked his butterbeans atop his roast lamb.

"You seem. . . different," Ron persisted.

"I'm just excited," Harry said with a secret sort of smile. "You know how life gives you excitement sometimes, don't you?"

Ron raised his eyebrows, but didn't push the matter. With a shake of his head he returned to his roll.

After a while Harry got up from the table and left for the Entrance Hall. A flame raced in his heart as he reached the double doors of Hogwarts. Pushing them open, he stepped into the twilit violet of the evening and flitted softly down a cobblestone path.

Tonight he was going to get what he longed for. Many were the days he spent wishing for this very thing, wondering if his daydreams and fantasies would ever come true. And now his instincts told him one thing: this was his night to succeed—he had waited long enough.

He reached the portico just as the grand clock of Hogwarts struck seven. Its every booming knell reverberated in Harry's chest, as if it were his own heart pulsing violently in the darkening air. He turned his gaze towards the courtyard.

Only one person was there, sitting on the rim of the fountain and gazing out at the rugged Scottish landscape around her. Her fiery hair caught the last ray of sunlight, casting a glowing aura around her petite frame. It wasn't Scarlett—it was Ginny.

Harry's heart beat faster. He stepped from the portico into the courtyard. "Hello, Ginny," he said.

She didn't even turn around. "What around you doing here?" she asked. Her voice was low and toneless, yet tinged with a note of bitterness. A lurch in Harry's chest stopped his heart for a painfully endless moment.

But no, this was his night for success! It didn't matter that Ginny was sad now; it all would change! He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he strolled towards Ginny, his casual gate belying his thundering heart.

"I _said_ what are you doing here?" Ginny repeated, acidity poisoning her gentle voice.

"I'm here to meet somebody," he answered lightly as he took a seat beside her.

She slid away from him, still not showing her face. "Who?" she asked astringently.

Harry let a smile play across his lips. "A girl," he said, his voice measured.

This was too much for Ginny, she whirled around and hissed, "It's Scarlett, isn't it?!" Harry saw her face for the first time—tears streaked her cheeks and her eyes were rubbed raw. She looked truly a nervous wreck. Harry felt a pang of guilt, but he squashed it. Everything would be all right in just a little bit. . .

Instead, he let his smile spread across his face and said amusedly, "Why, however did you guess?"

"You know bloody well how!" Ginny retorted, suddenly flaming up. "Scarlett told Hermione herself! We saw your blasted _love_ notes! And we know why you want to meet Scarlett here tonight!"

Harry raised his eyes. "Why is that, I wonder?" he said.

"BECAUSE YOU WANT TO FUCK HER TO PIECES!" Ginny screamed. "You said you only wanted part of her—only part! And I know exactly which part that is."

"Oh?" Harry said, deciding now might be the best time to cut her off before she stormed away.

She didn't give him a chance to speak, however. "You want her body!" Ginny screamed furiously. "You don't care anything about her mind! I thought I loved you—I really, truly thought that you were the best man in the world! But I was _WRONG_!"

And she whirled around, fully intending to leave Harry by himself to wait for a Scarlett who would never show up.

But he stopped her with a simple, "Wait." It was a plain request, not a command, but Ginny felt compelled to obey it. She stopped in her tracks, and Harry stepped closer to her, his cloak whispering softly in the evening breeze.

"You're right, Ginny," Harry said softly. "I want only part of Scarlett." She sniffed back a tear and flung her gaze away from his. "But you don't really believe that I'd want her body. I think we both know which part I really want."

"Oh?" Ginny said, her voice high with anxiety. "And what part is that, exactly?!"

Harry's smile split across his whole face and lit his green eyes with a fervor of passion. "I want the part that is standing in front of me right now."

Ginny froze, completely dumbfounded. Her anger slowly drained away to be replaced by a twisting confusion. "What?" she said simply, fully lost to Harry's last comment.

Harry laughed softly. "Don't think I didn't know," he said, highly amused. "There never was a porn star. But neither did Lucius Malfoy write _The Scarlett Letter_. Heck, there was never even an old friend of Hermione's from her primary school. It's been you and Hermione the whole time."

A sudden leap of hope flicked through Ginny's heart. "How long have you known?" she whispered, still unable to fully comprehend what was happening. "I thought no one would guess!"

Harry laughed. "Not after the _Daily Prophet_ had their say, they won't!" he said. "But I figured it all out before that. I admit that Scarlett's unique voice and style sounded familiar when Parvati read her "Flower Sonnet" aloud at the Gryffindor table. But the answer didn't come to me until you recited a sonnet of your own."

Ginny stared at him in disorientation. "You figured out that very day?" she whispered, her voice unsteady.

"Yep," Harry said, smiling a tiny bit.

Ginny couldn't help it. She began crying again. Harry didn't love Scarlett after all—she had hope again! Oh, she had never thought it could be true!

"Ginny. . ." Harry said quickly, apparently very much startled by her sudden wave of tears. He moved closer and slipped his firm hands into her tender own.

"Oh, Harry," she whispered through her tears, "You are so. . . damn. . . _stupid!!_"

All trace of smile left Harry's face. "What?" he said, a suddenly stunned expression filling his clear green eyes.

Ginny didn't answer—she pulled him violently towards her and locked his lips against her own. She worked against him for an everlasting moment, pouring all her anxiety and frustration into that kiss. She let her six years of waiting go in a single endless moment and poured her all into him. He couldn't even respond against her sudden attack—he could only clutch desperately to her as the wave of her sensations rolled against him, sending his mind spiraling into the distant stars above them.

Then they broke apart. Harry took a deep steadying breath as he gazed into her eyes. "I. . ." he gasped. "I. . ." What was one to say at a moment like this? No words came to his mind except three that he longed to utter. And so: "I love you."

Ginny smiled through a mist of tears. "Why couldn't you have told me that last week during the storm?" she asked. "Why send us both on this wild escapade of emotions and worry when everything could have been resolved then and there?"

Harry shrugged, obviously coming up short for an answer. "I don't know," he said. "The thought didn't occur to me at the time. I guess I. . . wasn't thinking properly."

Ginny sniffed back again tear as she let out of a weak laugh. "Oh, Harry, you're so thick at times. . ." she whispered.

Then he pulled her up against him and initiated a kiss even more wild, even more passionate than the last. He fueled their connection with his own longing, with his overflow of love that ached to find another heart and soul in which it belonged. His fingers clutched desperately to the cusps of her shoulders as his palms molded themselves to the exposed skin of her neck. She ran her own hands through his lustrously raven hair and pressed her small frame up against his.

He drew her into his cloak, and together they intensified their passion. The wind whipped through the courtyard, but the more it blew against the two lovers the less it could touch them. It hit their warm bodies like a wave of desire, turned from ice to fire in a single second.

The clock struck the half-hour. They drew away, still holding each other in their arms and grinning warmly at each other. Harry had been right—it was the night of their success. They had waited so long, so patiently, and with such a particular, unmovable yearning, for this very moment, and it had come at last.

For a long time they didn't speak. Harry drew her into an embrace, and they clung tightly to each other, savoring the warmth that flowed endlessly between their two bodies. They thought of nothing—not the wind, not the chilling night, not of school or homework, not of their friends and teachers, and not of the rest of their lives—nothing but each other.

Then Harry let out a low laugh. Ginny pulled away to look him in the eye. "What is it?" she said, her lips turning upward in a smile.

"I just realized—The Conspirators went to so much work to make their magazine when you and Hermione made seven issues in under three weeks. How did you do it?"

"I came up with the idea," Ginny said proudly, "when we were thinking of a way to get back at Goyle one morning after he stared us down the entire time at breakfast. It wasn't the first time, see, that he had done it. So we decided to make _The Scarlett Letter_. We borrowed some of Fred and George's old porn magazines and pasted up our own magazine. Ha, The Conspirators went to the trouble of getting their copies printed and published when Hermione simply used some wisely-chosen words and a _very_ strong duplication spell. After Lucius's exposure, Draco got rid of the magazines for us by dumping them in his father's house."

"Were you ever worried that the other girls would cause too much competition for Scarlett?" Harry asked, deeply amused.

"Maybe a little," Ginny said. "Anyhow, we couldn't have them cluttering Scarlett's playing field, so we fabricated a letter from Lavender's mum and sent it to McGonagall at the time of the photo shoot. Gosh, it was hilarious when she came bursting into Hermione's room to deliver the letter! Especially when she ran off to the Room of Requirement afterwards!"

"Ah, I have such a smart girlfriend," Harry said, savoring the taste of the last word on his tongue. "Not only did you teach Goyle and his friends a well-deserved lesson, but you set all of Hogwarts on the straight-and-narrow and got a million blackmail pictures in the process!"

Ginny laughed. "You're so wicked sometimes!" she said sweetly. "That last comment was almost Slytherin of you."

Whether he was getting tired of the conversation or whether he simply wanted to move on to other things, Harry chose not to answer her. Instead, he drew her into another kiss. They sunk to the ground against the fountain as their souls connected once more in a glorious melody of euphoria. And once again they forgot of everything around them as they enjoyed each other's company for a very long time.

* * *

From behind the grand clock of Hogwarts Dumbledore looked down on the pair as a smile spread across his face. "It's such a relief that both parts of Scarlett have found their love at last," he remarked to the ticking cogs. "It's exactly what our resident porn star deserves, after everything she has done for our school."

He chuckled at the couple that sat by the fountain, kissing passionately. "Ah, Miss Weasley and Mr. Potter, I just love these happy endings," he said in content. "And, my, what a to-do list you two have cut out for yourselves!"

He looked down at a copy of _The Scarlett Letter_ he had clutched in his gnarled hand. Laughing softly, he starting sucking on a Bertie Bott's Every-Flavored Condom as he headed back up to his office.

----------

A note left on Hermione's pillow much later that night:

_The best benefit of all: I GOT HARRY!!_

**The End**

**A/N: **Whee, I finished posting this story! I've had so much fun with it, but (sadly) all good things must come to an end. This story is twice the length that I originally planned, and I put so much more into it than I expected. But end it did. Though I'm a bit sad about it, I'm quite pleased with the feedback I've gotten. Thank you all you wonderful readers! And thanks even _more_ to my wonderful reviewers!

If you'll remember, this fanfic was based off a real story. Two people I know very well (who are represented in this story by Hermione and Ginny) were getting very annoyed and frustrated at the advances of a certain boy named. . . well, I don't believe some of my sites want me to mention real people, so I won't, but this boy became the framework for Goyle. So "Hermione" and "Ginny" set up an Internet account of a porn star named Scarlett, all the meanwhile keeping in mind their goal of teaching "Goyle" a valuable lesson.

Wouldn't you know, a whole herd of young men found Scarlett (and young women, too; the real Scarlett claimed to be bi, but that point didn't make it into my story), and she became quite a hit. "Ginny" and "Hermione" didn't even have to lure "Goyle" to Scarlett's page—"Goyle" found it all on his own.

And so, while carrying on outrageous flirtation with all her other correspondences, Scarlett slowly led "Goyle" on. It was sort of scary how much of their relationship made it into this story without me turning to wild invention. The standup really happened (except at a movie theater, not The Three Broomsticks). "Goyle" making out with "Pansy" really happened, as did Scarlett's resulting feelings of betrayal.

In the end (around the time when "Goyle" was getting dangerously close to finding out what was going on), "Hermione" and "Ginny" quit the charade. They originally planned to reveal Scarlett to be an old, fat man. Instead they found a picture of a Sumo-sized woman wearing a string bikini. I personally liked the idea of the old, fat man better, and Lucius Malfoy took the blame in my story.

I made the ending a lot more neat in my story than it was in real life. To tell the truth, the real events were a wee bit anti-climactic, especially since "Goyle" found out what exactly was going on. The dénouement of the real story happened with the closing of Scarlett's account, but it cropped up again in related events that aren't remotely funny and therefore don't belong in a comedy, nor enough in and of themselves to make another full story.

The best part of this whole incident was that I got to observe this entire episode from start to finish, quite a bit of it over the shoulders of "Hermione" and "Ginny." My life has never before presented anything as story-worthy as this. I am deeply indebted to the real "Hermione" and "Ginny" for their wonderful idea. I wish I could mention the both of them by name, but it wouldn't be a good idea, even if these fanfiction sites _did_ approve of including real-life people in my stories! But I can't thank them enough, really I can't!

So if you thought I was a pervert for writing some of the stuff I did, then in my defense I reply, "It was based off true events! Didn't you read the summary?" But wait. . . I came up with the AIDS rumor. I came up with my pervy version of Dumbledore. I came up with the nude photos (the site that Scarlett posted at didn't allow nudity in their pics) and the nude photo shoot. I came up with the whole Conspiracy (which wouldn't have worked if my version of Scarlett had been bi). I came up with the fan club. I came up with the measurement games in the staff room. I came up with all the extra romance (H/G, Hr/R, D/P, P/Goyle, Crabbe/Eloise, Nearly-Headless Nick/Moaning Myrtle, FF/Vector, FF/MM, D/Parvati, Luna/her stud, etc. etc.).

Wow. I guess I am a pervert after all. Er, sorry:D

See this is exactly what would happen if I wrote my memoirs. A lot would be based on fact, but I'd throw so many extra story lines in that it could easily pass for fiction. I'd do exactly what James Frey did with his book _A Million Little Pieces_, only much more so! So (for now) I'm sticking to fiction.

As for stories from me in the future? I promise to write more. I have a whole list of one-shots for you all to read, and I'll keep writing more. I also want to experiment with the novella form (I've done short stories and novels, but not any real novellas). So expect to see more from me in the future! Until then, tata!

Islander

P.S. Now would be a good time to review. :D


End file.
